THE   STORY  OF 

HIAWATHA 


VJ 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

IRVINE 

GIFT  OF 
MR.   CHARLES  KILMER 


"FROM  THE  FULL  MOON  FELL  NOKOMIS" — Page  123 


ffi 


THESTOIOrOF 

HMW&IHA. 

ADAPTED  FROM 


WINSTON  STOKES 


WITH  THCE>  ORIQINAL/ 


Illastrarfed  by 


LonQreUoW 


NEW  YORK 


_     >j 


COMPANY 


PUBLISHRRS 


?c 


Copyright,  1910,  By 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 


September, 


PREFACE 

In  this  land  of  change  it  is  important  that  we  may 
learn  a  little  of  the  childlike  people  who  preceded  us ;  who 
hunted,  fished  and  worshipped  long  ago  where  we  now 
make  our  homes  and  lead  our  lives.  No  other  legends  have 
so  strange  a  charm,  or  such  appealing  local  interest,  as  leg 
ends  of  the  wildwood,  and  nowhere  are  these  so  well  ex 
pressed  as  in  Longfellow's  poem  of  Hiawatha. 

To  furnish  a  simple  medium  through  which  both  younger 
and  older  people  of  today  may  be  brought  closer,  by  Long 
fellow,  to  the  mystery  of  the  forest,  this  prose  rendering  of 
"Hiawatha"  has  been  written.  It  follows  closely  the  nar 
rative  of  the  poem,  and  in  many  places  Longfellow's  own 
words  have  been  introduced  into  its  pages,  for  the  purpose 
of  this  volume  is  to  awaken  interest  and  pleasure  in  the 
poem  itself. 


CONTENTS 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

PAGE 

PREFACE vii 

CHAPTER 

I.     THE  PEACE-PIPE i 

II.     THE  FOUR  WINDS 3 

III.  HIAWATHA'S  CHILDHOOD u 

IV.  HIAWATHA  AND  MUD JEKEEWIS 15 

V.     HIAWATHA'S  FASTING 19 

VI.     HIAWATHA'S  FRIENDS 23 

VII.     HIAWATHA'S  SAILING 27 

VIII.     HIAWATHA'S  FISHING 30 

IX.  HIAWATHA  AND  THE  PEARL-FEATHER  ....  34 

X.     HIAWATHA'S  WOOING 38 

XI.     HIAWATHA'S  WEDDING  FEAST 43 

XII.     THE  SON  OF  THE  EVENING  STAR 47 

XIII.  BLESSING  THE  CORNFIELDS 53 

XIV.  PICTURE  WRITING 57 

XV.     HIAWATHA'S  LAMENTATION 60 

XVI.     PAU-PUK-KEEWIS 65 

XVII.  THE  HUNTING  OF  PAU-PUK-KEEWIS    ....  70 

XVIII.     THE  DEATH  OF  KWASIND 76 

XIX.     THE  GHOSTS 80 

XX.     THE  FAMINE 84 

XXL     THE  WHITE  MAN'S  FOOT 88 

XXII.     HIAWATHA'S  DEPARTURE 92 


CONTENTS 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION 99 

CANTO 

I.    THE  PEACE-PIPE 105 

II.    THE  FOUR  WINDS in 

III.  HIAWATHA'S  CHILDHOOD      .......   123 

IV.  HIAWATHA  AND  MUDJEKEEWIS  .     .     .     .     .     .133 

V.  HIAWATHA'S  FASTING     .      .      .     .     .     .     .      .   144 

VI.  HIAWATHA'S  FRIENDS      .     .    •',     .     .     ...   156 

VII.    HIAWATHA'S  SAILING 163 

VIII.     HIAWATHA'S  FISHING .168 

IX.  HIAWATHA  AND  THE  PEARL-FEATHER  .      .      .      .178 

X.     HIAWATHA'S  WOOING .   189 

XL     HIAWATHA'S  WEDDING  FEAST 200 

XII.    THE  SON  OF  THE  EVENING  STAR 210 

XIII.  BLESSING  THE  CORNFIELDS 225 

XIV.  PICTURE  WRITING 234 

XV.     HIAWATHA'S  LAMENTATION 241 

XVI.     PAU-PUK-KEEWIS .     .  250 

XVII.  THE  HUNTING  OF  PAU-PUK-KEEWIS    ....  260 

XVIII.  THE  DEATH  OF  KWASIND      .      .      .      ...      .  274 

XIX.    THE  GHOSTS .     .     .     .  279 

XX.    THE  FAMINE 288 

XXL    THE  WHITE  MAN'S  FOOT 295 

XXII.     HIAWATHA'S  DEPARTURE 304 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Or  ALL  BEASTS  HE  LEARNED  THE  LANGUAGE"  .      .      .     Cover 

"FROM  THE  FULL  MOON  FELL  NOKOMIS"  .      .      .      Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 
"DEAD  HE  LAY  THERE  IN  THE  SUNSET" 22 

"PLEASANT  WAS  THE  JOURNEY  HOMEWARD" 42 

"SEVEN  LONG  DAYS  AND  NIGHTS  HE  SAT  THERE"  ...  86 

"GIVE  ME  OF  YOUR  ROOTS,  O  TAMARACK" 164 

"TAKE  MY  BAIT,  O  KING  OF  FISHES" 170 

HE  BEGAN  His  MYSTIC  DANCES 204 

"HELD  BY  UNSEEN  HANDS  BUT  SINKING" 222 

"AND  EACH  FIGURE  HAD  A  MEANING" 236 

"HURLED  THE  PINE  CONES  DOWN  UPON  HIM"  ....  278 

"WESTWARD,  WESTWARD  HIAWATHA 
SAILED  INTO  THE  FIERY  SUNSET" 310 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

* 

I 

THE  PEACE-PIPE 

LONG  ago,  when  our  cities  were  pleasant  woodlands 
and  the  white  man  was  far  beyond  the  seas,  the 
great  Manito,  God  of  all  the  Indians,  descended  to  the 
earth.  From  the  red  crags  of  the  Great  Red  Pipestone 
Quarry  he  gazed  upon  the  country  that  he  ruled,  and  a  sil 
ver  river  gushed  from  his  footprints  and  turned  to  gold 
as  it  met  the  morning  sun.  The  Great  Manito  stooped  to 
gather  some  of  the  red  stone  of  the  quarry,  and  molded  it 
with  giant  fingers  into  a  mighty  pipe-bowl;  he  plucked  a 
reed  from  the  river  bank  for  a  pipe-stem,  filled  the  pipe 
with  the  bark  of  the  willow,  breathed  upon  the  forest  until 
the  great  boughs  chafed  together  into  flame,  and  there 
alone  upon  the  mountains  he  smoked  the  pipe  of  peace. 
The  smoke  rose  high  and  slowly  in  the  air.  Far  above  the 
tops  of  the  tallest  pine-trees  it  rose  in  a  thin  blue  line,  so 
that  all  the  nations  might  see  and  hasten  at  the  summons  of 
the  Great  Manito;  and  the  smoke  as  it  rose  grew  thicker  and 
purer  and  whiter,  rolling  and  unfolding  in  the  air  until  it 

[i] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

glistened  like  a  great  white  fleecy  cloud  that  touched  the 
top  of  heaven.  The  Indians  saw  it  from  the  Valley  of 
Wyoming,  and  from  Tuscaloosa  and  the  far-off  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  their  prophets  said :  "Come  and  obey  the 
summons  of  the  Great  Manito,  who  calls  the  tribes  of  men 
to  council!" 

Over  the  prairies,  down  the  rivers,  through  the  forests, 
from  north  and  south  and  east  and  west,  the  red  men  has 
tened  to  approach  the  smoke-cloud.  There  were  Dela- 
wares  and  Dacotahs  and  Choctaws  and  Comanches  and 
Pawnees  and  Blackfeet  and  Shoshonies, — all  the  tribes  of 
Indians  in  the  world,  and  one  and  all  they  gathered  at 
the  Pipestone  Quarry,  where  the  Great  Manito  stood  and 
waited  for  them.  And  the  Great  Manito  saw  that  they 
glared  at  one  another  angrily,  and  he  stretched  his  right 
hand  over  them  and  said: 

"My  children,  I  have  given  you  a  happy  land,  where  you 
may  fish  and  hunt.  I  have  filled  the  rivers  with  the  trout 
and  sturgeon.  There  are  wild  fowl  in  the  lakes  and 
marshes;  there  are  bears  in  the  forest  and  bison  on  the 
prairie.  Now  listen  to  my  warning,  for  I  am  weary  of 
your  endless  quarrels:  I  will  send  a  Prophet  to  you, 
who  shall  guide  you  and  teach  you  and  share  your  suf 
ferings.  Obey  him,  and  all  will  be  well  with  you.  Dis 
obey  him,  and  you  shall  be  scattered  like  the  autumn 
leaves.  Wash  the  war-paint  and  the  bloodstains  from 

[2] 


THE  FOUR  WINDS 

your  bodies ;  mould  the  red  stone  of  the  quarry  into  peace- 
pipes,  and  smoke  with  me  the  pipe  of  peace  and  brother 
hood  that  shall  last  forever." 

The  tones  of  his  deep  voice  died  away,  and  the  Indians 
broke  their  weapons  and  bathed  in  the  sparkling  river. 
They  took  the  red  stone  of  the  quarry  and  made  peace- 
pipes  and  gathered  in  a  circle;  and  while  they  smoked  the 
Great  Manito  grew  taller  and  mightier  and  lighter  until 
he  drifted  on  the  smoke  high  above  the  clouds  into  the 
heavens. 

II 

THE  FOUR  WINDS 

IN  the  far-off  kingdom  of  Wabasso,  the  country  of  the 
North-wind,  where  the  fierce  blasts  howl  among  the 
gorges  and  the  mountains  are  like  flint  the  year  round, 
Mishe  Mokwa,  the  huge  bear,  had  his  cave.  Years 
had  passed  since  the  great  Manito  had  spoken  to  the 
tribes  of  men,  and  his  words  of  warning  were  forgotten 
by  the  Indians ;  the  smoke  of  his  peace-pipe  had  been  blown 
away  by  the  four  winds,  and  the  red  men  smeared  their 
bodies  with  new  war-paint,  as  they  had  done  in  days  of  old. 
But,  brave  as  they  were,  none  of  them  dared  to  hunt  the 
monster  bear,  who  was  the  terror  of  the  nations  of  the 
earth.  He  would  rise  from  his  winter  sleep  and  bring  the 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

fear  of  death  into  the  villages,  and  he  would  come  like  a 
great  shadow  in  the  night  to  kill  and  to  destroy.  Year 
by  year  the  great  bear  became  bolder,  and  year  by  year 
the  number  of  his  victims  had  increased  until  the  mighty 
Mudjekeewis,  bravest  of  all  the  early  Indians,  grew  into 
manhood. 

Although  Mudjekeewis  was  so  strong  that  all  his  ene 
mies  were  afraid  of  him,  he  did  not  love  the  war-path,  for 
he  alone  remembered  the  warning  of  the  great  Manito; 
and  as  he  wished  to  be  a  hero,  and  yet  to  do  no  harm  to  his 
fellow  men,  he  decided  to  hunt  and  kill  the  great  bear  of 
the  mountains,  and  to  take  the  magic  belt  of  shining  shells 
called  wampum  that  the  great  bear  wore  about  his  neck. 
Mudjekeewis  told  this  to  the  Indians,  and  one  and  all  they 
shouted:  "Honor  be  to  Mudjekeewis!" 

For  a  weapon  he  took  a  huge  war-club,  made  of  rock  and 
the  trunk  of  a  tough  young  pine,  and  all  alone  he  went 
into  the  Northland  to  the  home  of  Mishe  Mokwa.  Many 
days  he  hunted,  for  the  great  bear  knew  of  his  coming, 
and  the  monster's  savage  heart  felt  fear  for  the  first  time ; 
but  at  last,  after  a  long  search,  Mudjekeewis  heard  a  sound 
like  far-off  thunder,  that  rose  and  fell  and  rose  again 
until  the  echoes  all  around  were  rumbling,  and  he  knew 
the  sound  to  be  the  heavy  breathing  of  the  giant  bear,  who 
slept.  Softly  Mudjekeewis  stole  upon  him. 

The  great  bear  was  sprawled  upon  the  mountain,  so 

[4] 


THE  FOUR  WINDS 

huge  that  his  fore-quarters  rose  above  the  tallest  boulders, 
and  on  his  rough  and  wrinkled  hide  the  belt  of  wampum 
shone  like  a  string  of  jewels.  Still  he  slept;  and  Mudje- 
keewis,  almost  frightened  by  the  long  red  talons  and  the 
mighty  arms  and  fore-paws  of  the  monster,  drew  the  shin 
ing  wampum  softly  over  the  closed  eyes  and  over  the  grim 
muzzle  of  the  bear,  whose  heavy  breathing  was  hot  upon 
his  hands. 

Then  Mudjekeewis  gripped  his  club  and  swung  it  high 
above  his  head,  shouting  his  war-cry  in  a  terrible  voice, 
and  he  struck  the  great  bear  on  the  forehead  a  blow  that 
would  have  split  the  rocks  on  which  the  monster  slept. 
The  great  bear  rose  and  staggered  forward,  but  his  senses 
reeled  and  his  legs  trembled  beneath  him.  Stunned,  he 
sat  upon  his  haunches,  and  from  his  mighty  chest  and 
throat  came  a  little  whimpering  cry  like  the  crying  of  a 
woman.  Mudjekeewis  laughed  at  the  great  bear,  and 
raising  his  war-club  once  again,  he  broke  the  great  bear's 
skull  as  ice  is  broken  in  winter.  He  put  on  the  belt  of 
wampum  and  returned  to  his  own  people,  who  were  proud 
of  him  and  cried  out  with  one  voice  that  the  West-wind 
should  be  given  him  to  rule.  Thenceforth  he  was  known 
as  Kabeyun,  father  of  the  winds  and  ruler  of  the  air. 

Kabeyun  had  three  sons,  to  whom  he  gave  the  three 
remaining  winds  of  heaven.  To  Wabun  he  gave  the 
steady  East-wind,  fresh  and  damp  with  the  air  of  the 

[51 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

ocean;  to  the  lazy  Shawondasee  he  gave  the  scented  breezes 
of  the  south,  and  to  the  cruel  Kabibonokka  he  gave  the  icy 
gusts  and  storm-blasts  of  the  Northland. 

Wabun,  the  young  and  beautiful,  ruled  the  morning, 
and  would  fly  from  hill  to  hill  and  plain  to  plain  awaken 
ing  the  world.  When  he  came  with  the  dew  of  early  dawn 
upon  his  shoulders  the  wild  fowl  would  splash  amid  the 
marshes  and  the  lakes  and  rivers  wrinkle  into  life.  The 
squirrels  would  begin  to  chatter  in  the  tree-tops,  the  moose 
would  crash  through  the  thicket,  and  the  smoke  would  rise 
from  a  thousand  wigwams. 

And  yet,  although  the  birds  never  sang  so  gayly  as  when 
Wabun  was  in  the  air,  and  the  flowers  never  smelled  so 
sweet  as  when  Wabun  blew  upon  their  petals,  he  was  not 
happy,  for  he  lived  alone  in  heaven.  But  one  morning, 
when  he  sprang  from  the  cloud  bank  where  he  had  lain 
through  the  night,  and  when  he  was  passing  over  a  yet 
unawakened  village,  Wabun  saw  a  maiden  picking  rushes 
from  the  brink  of  a  river,  and  as  he  passed  above  her  she 
looked  up  with  eyes  as  blue  as  two  blue  lakes.  Every 
morning  she  waited  for  him  by  the  river  bank,  and  Wabun 
loved  the  beautiful  maiden.  So  he  came  down  to  earth 
and  he  wooed  her,  wrapped  her  in  his  robe  of  crimson  till 
he  changed  her  to  a  star  and  he  bore  her  high  into  the 
heavens.  There  they  may  be  seen  always  together,  Wabun 
and  the  pure,  bright  star  he  loves — the  Star  of  Morning. 

[6] 


THE  FOUR  WINDS 

But  his  brother,  the  fierce  and  cruel  Kabibonokka,  lived 
among  the  eternal  ice  caves  and  the  snowdrifts  of  the 
north.  He  would  whisk  away  the  leaves  in  autumn  and 
send  the  sleet  through  the  naked  forest;  he  would  drive  the 
wild  fowl  swiftly  to  the  south  and  rush  through  the 
woods  after  them,  roaring  and  rattling  the  branches. 
He  would  bind  the  lakes  and  rivers  in  the  keenest,  hardest 
ice,  and  make  them  hum  and  sing  beneath  him  as  he  whirled 
along  beneath  the  stars,  and  he  would  cause  great  floes  and 
icebergs  to  creak  and  groan  and  grind  together  in  agony  of 
cold. 

Once  Kabibonokka  was  rushing  southward  after  the  de 
parting  wild  fowl,  when  he  saw  a  figure  on  the  frozen  moor 
land.  It  was  Shingebis,  the  diver,  who  had  stayed  in  the 
country  of  the  North-wind  long  after  his  tribe  had  gone 
away,  and  Shingebis  was  making  ready  to  pass  the  winter 
there  in  spite  of  Kabibonokka  and  his  gusty  anger.  He 
was  dragging  strings  of  fish  to  his  winter  lodge — enough 
to  last  him  until  spring  should  set  the  rivers  free  and  fill 
the  air  once  more  with  wild  fowl  and  the  waters  with  re 
turning  salmon. 

What  did  Shingebis  care  for  the  anger  of  Kabibonokka^ 
He  had  four  great  logs  to  burn  as  firewood  (one  for  each 
moon  of  the  winter) ,  and  he  stretched  himself  before  the 
blazing  fire  and  ate  and  laughed  and  sang  as  merrily  as  if 
the  sun  were  warm  and  bright  without  his  cheery  wigwam. 

[7] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

"Ho,"  cried  Kabibonokka,  "I  will  rush  upon  him !  I  will 
shake  his  lodge  to  pieces !  I  will  scatter  his  bright  fire  and 
drive  him  far  to  the  south !"  And  in  the  night  Kabibonokka 
piled  the  snowdrifts  high  about  the  lodge  of  Shingebis,  and 
shook  the  lodge-pole  and  wailed  around  the  smoke-flue 
until  the  flames  flared  and  the  ashes  were  scattered  on  the 
floor.  But  Shingebis  cared  not  at  all.  He  merely  turned 
the  log  until  it  burned  more  brightly,  and  laughed  and  sang 
as  he  had  done  before,  only  a  little  louder:  "O  Kabi 
bonokka,  you  are  but  my  fellow-mortal!" 

"I  will  freeze  him  with  my  bitter  breath!"  roared  Kabi 
bonokka;  "I  will  turn  him  to  a  block  of  ice,"  and  he  burst 
into  the  lodge  of  Shingebis.  But  although  Shingebis  knew 
by  the  sudden  coldness  on  his  back  that  Kabibonokka  stood 
beside  him,  he  did  not  even  turn  his  head,  but  blew  upon 
the  embers,  struck  the  coals  and  made  the  sparks  flicker  up 
the  smoke-flue,  while  he  laughed  and  sang  over  and  over 
again:  "O  Kabibonokka,  you  are  but  my  fellow-mortal !" 

Drops  of  sweat  trickled  down  Kabibonokka's  forehead, 
and  his  limbs  grew  hot  and  moist  and  commenced  to  melt 
away.  From  his  snow-sprinkled  locks  the  water  dripped 
as  from  the  melting  icicles  in  spring,  and  the  steam  rose 
from  his  shoulders.  He  rushed  from  the  lodge  and  howled 
upon  the  moorland ;  for  he  could  not  bear  the  heat  and  the 
merry  laughter  and  the  singing  of  Shingebis,  the  diver. 

"Come  out  and  wrestle  with  me!"  cried  Kabibonokka. 

[8] 


THE  FOUR  WINDS 

"Come  and  meet  me  face  to  face  upon  the  moorland !"  And 
he  stamped  upon  the  ice  and  made  it  thicker;  breathed  upon 
the  snow  and  made  it  harder;  raged  upon  the  frozen  marshes 
against  Shingebis,  and  the  warm,  merry  fire  that  had  driven 
him  away. 

Then  Shingebis,  the  diver,  left  his  lodge  and  all  the 
warmth  and  light  that  was  in  it,  and  he  wrestled  all  night 
long  on  the  marshes  with  Kabibonokka,  until  the  North- 
wind's  frozen  grasp  became  more  feeble  and  his  strength 
was  gone.  And  Kabibonokka  rose  from  the  fight  and  fled 
from  Shingebis  far  away  into  the  very  heart  of  his  frozen 
kingdom  in  the  north. 

Shawondasee,  the  lazy  one,  ruler  of  the  South-wind, 
had  his  kingdom  in  the  land  of  warmth  and  pleasure  of  the 
sunlit  tropics.  The  smoke  of  his  pipe  would  fill  the  air 
with  a  dreamy  haze  that  caused  the  grapes  and  melons  to 
swell  into  delicious  ripeness.  He  breathed  upon  the  fields 
until  they  yielded  rich  tobacco ;  he  dropped  soft  and  starry 
blossoms  on  the  meadows  and  filled  the  shaded  woods  with 
the  singing  of  a  hundred  different  birds. 

How  the  wild  rose  and  the  shy  arbutus  and  the  lily,  sweet 
and  languid,  loved  the  idle  Shawondasee !  How  the  frost- 
weary  and  withered  earth  would  melt  and  mellow  at  his 
sunny  touch!  Happy  Shawondasee!  In  all  his  life  he 
had  a  single  sorrow — just  one  sleepy  little  sting  of  pain. 
He  had  seen  a  maiden  clad  in  purest  green,  with  hair  as 

[9] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

yellow  as  the  bright  breast  of  the  oriole,  and  she  stood  and 
nodded  at  him  from  the  prairie  toward  the  north.  But 
Shawondasee,  although  he  loved  the  bright-haired  maiden 
and  longed  for  her  until  he  filled  the  air  with  sighs  of 
tenderness,  was  so  lazy  and  listless  that  he  never  sought 
to  win  her  love.  Never  did  he  rouse  himself  and  tell  her 
of  his  passion,  but  he  stayed  far  to  the  southward,  and 
murmured  half  asleep  among  the  palm-trees  as  he  dreamed 
of  the  bright  maiden. 

One  morning,  when  he  awoke  and  gazed  as  usual  toward 
the  north,  he  saw  that  the  beautiful  golden  hair  of  the 
maiden  had  become  as  white  as  snow,  and  Shawondasee 
cried  out  in  his  sorrow:  "Ah,  my  brother  of  the  North- 
wind,  you  have  robbed  me  of  my  treasure!  You  have 
stolen  the  bright-haired  maiden,  and  have  wooed  her  with 
your  stories  of  the  Northland!"  and  Shawondasee  wan 
dered  through  the  air,  sighing  with  passion  until,  lo  and 
behold !  the  maiden  disappeared. 

Foolish  Shawondasee!  It  was  no  maiden  that  you 
longed  for.  It  was  the  prairie  dandelion,  and  you  puffed 
her  away  forever  with  your  useless  sighing. 


[10] 


Ill 

HIAWATHA'S  CHILDHOOD 

NO  doubt  you  will  wonder  what  the  stories  of  the 
Four  Winds  have  to  do  with  Hiawatha,  and  why 
he  has  not  been  spoken  of  before;  but  soon  you  will  see 
that  if  you  had  not  read  these  stories,  you  could  not 
understand  how  the  life  of  Hiawatha  was  different  from 
that  of  any  other  Indian.  And  Hiawatha  had  been  chosen 
by  the  great  Manito  to  be  the  leader  of  the  red  men,  to 
share  their  troubles  and  to  teach  them;  so  of  course  there 
were  a  great  many  things  that  took  place  before  he  was 
born  that  have  to  be  remembered  when  we  think  of  him. 

In  the  full  moon,  long  ago,  the  beautiful  Nokomis  was 
swinging  in  a  swing  of  grape-vines  and  playing  with  her 
women,  when  one  of  them,  who  had  always  wished  to  do 
her  harm,  cut  the  swing  and  let  Nokomis  fall  to  earth.  As 
she  fell,  she  was  so  fair  and  bright  that  she  seemed  to  be  a 
star  flashing  downward  through  the  air,  and  the  Indians 
all  cried  out:  "See,  a  star  is  dropping  to  the  meadow!" 

There  on  the  meadow,  among  the  blossoms  and  the 
grasses,  a  daughter  was  born  to  Nokomis,  and  she  called 
her  daughter  Wenonah.  And  her  daughter,  who  was  born 
beneath  the  clear  moon  and  the  bright  stars  of  heaven,  grew 
into  a  maiden  sweeter  than  the  lilies  of  the  prairie,  lovelier 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

than  the  moonlight  and  purer  than  the  light  of  any  star. 

Wenonah  was  so  beautiful  that  the  West-wind,  the 
mighty  West- wind,  Mudjekeewis,  came  and  whispered 
tenderly  into  her  ear  until  she  loved  him.  But  the  West- 
wind  did  not  love  Wenonah  long.  He  went  away  to  his 
kingdom  on  the  mountains,  and  after  he  had  gone  Wenonah 
had  a  son  whom  she  named  Hiawatha,  the  child  of  the 
West-wind.  But  Wenonah  was  so  sad  because  the  West- 
wind  had  deserted  her  that  she  died  soon  after  Hiawatha 
was  born,  and  the  infant  Hiawatha,  without  father  or 
mother,  was  taken  to  Nokomis'  wigwam,  which  stood 
beside  a  broad  and  shining  lake  called  "The  Big-Sea- 
Water." 

There  he  lived  and  was  nursed  by  his  grandmother, 
Nokomis,  who  sang  to  him  and  rocked  him  in  his  cradle. 
When  he  cried  Nokomis  would  say  to  him:  "Hush,  or  the 
naked  bear  will  get  thee,"  and  when  he  awoke  in  the  night 
she  taught  him  all  about  the  stars,  and  showed  him  the 
spirits  that  we  call  the  northern  lights  dance  the  Death- 
dance  far  in  the  north. 

On  the  summer  evenings,  little  Hiawatha  would  hear 
the  pine-trees  whisper  to  one  another  and  the  water  lap 
ping  in  the  lake,  and  he  would  see  the  fire-flies  twinkle 
in  the  twilight;  and  when  he  saw  the  moon  and  all  the 
dark  spots  on  it  he  asked  Nokomis  what  they  were,  and  she 
told  him  that  a  very  angry  warrior  had  once  seized  his  grand- 

[12] 


HIAWATHA'S  CHILDHOOD 

mother  and  thrown  her  up  into  the  sky  at  midnight,  "right 
up  to  the  moon,"  said  Nokomis,  "and  that  is  her  body  that 
you  see  there." 

When  Hiawatha  saw  the  rainbow,  with  the  sun  shining 
on  it,  he  said:  "What  is  that,  Nokomis?"  and  Nokomis 
answered,  saying:  "That  is  the  heaven  of  the  flowers, 
where  all  the  flowers  that  fade  on  the  earth  blossom  once 
again."  And  when  Hiawatha  heard  the  owls  hooting 
through  the  night  he  asked  Nokomis:  "What  are  those?" 
And  Nokomis  answered:  "Those  are  the  owls  and  the 
owlets,  talking  to  each  other  in  their  native  language." 

Then  Hiawatha  learned  the  language  of  all  the  birds 
of  the  air,  all  about  their  nests,  how  they  learned  to  fly 
and  where  they  went  in  winter;  and  he  learned  so  much 
that  he  could  talk  to  them  just  as  if  he  were  a  bird  himself. 
He  learned  the  language  of  all  the  beasts  of  the  forest,  and 
they  told  him  all  their  secrets.  The  beavers  showed  him 
how  they  built  their  houses,  the  squirrels  took  him  to  the 
places  where  they  hid  their  acorns,  and  the  rabbits  told  him 
why  they  were  so  timid.  Hiawatha  talked  with  all  the 
animals  that  he  met,  and  he  called  them  "Hiawatha's 
brothers." 

Nokomis  had  a  friend  called  lagoo  the  Boaster,  because 
he  told  so  many  stories  about  great  deeds  that  he  had  never 
done,  and  this  lagoo  once  made  a  bow  for  Hiawatha,  and 
said  to  him:  "Take  this  bow,  and  go  into  the  forest  hunt- 

[13] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

irig.  Kill  a  fine  roebuck  and  bring  us  back  his  horns." 
So  Hiawatha  went  into  the  forest  all  alone  with  his  bow 
and  arrows,  and  because  he  knew  the  language  of  the  wild 
things  he  could  tell  what  all  the  birds  and  animals  were 
saying  to  him. 

"Do  not  shoot  us,  Hiawatha!"  said  the  robins;  and  the 
squirrels  scrambled  in  fright  up  the  trunks  of  the  trees, 
coughing  and  chattering:  "Do  not  shoot  us,  Hiawatha!" 
But  for  once  Hiawatha  did  not  care  or  even  hear  what  the 
birds  and  beasts  were  saying  to  him. 

At  last  he  saw  the  tracks  of  the  red  deer,  and  he  fol 
lowed  them  to  the  river  bank,  where  he  hid  among  the 
bushes  and  waited  until  two  antlers  rose  above  the  thicket 
and  a  fine  buck  stepped  out  into  the  path  and  snuffed  the 
wind.  Hiawatha's  heart  beat  quickly  and  he  rose  to  one 
knee  and  aimed  his  arrow.  "Twang!"  went  the  bowstring, 
and  the  buck  leaped  high  into  the  air  and  fell  down  dead, 
with  the  arrow  in  his  heart.  Hiawatha  dragged  the  buck 
that  he  had  killed  back  to  the  wigwam  of  Nokomis,  and 
Nokomis  and  lagoo  were  much  pleased.  From  the  buck 
skin  they  made  a  fine  cloak  for  Hiawatha;  they  hung  up 
the  antlers  in  the  wigwam,  and  invited  everybody  in  the 
village  to  a  feast  of  deer's  flesh.  And  the  Indians  all  came 
and  feasted,  and  called  Hiawatha  "Strong  Heart." 


[14] 


IV 

HIAWATHA  AND  MUDJEKEEWIS 

THE  years  passed,  and  Hiawatha  grew  from  a  child 
into  a  strong  and  active  man.  He  was  so  wise  that 
the  old  men  knew  far  less  than  he,  and  often  asked  him 
for  advice,  and  he  was  such  a  fine  hunter  that  he  never 
missed  his  aim.  He  was  so  swift  of  foot  that  he  could  shoot 
an  arrow  and  catch  it  in  its  flight  or  let  it  fall  behind  him; 
he  was  so  strong  that  he  could  shoot  ten  arrows  up  into 
the  air,  and  the  last  of  them  would  leave  his  bow  before 
the  first  had  fallen  to  the  ground.  He  had  magic  mittens 
made  of  deer-skin,  and  when  he  wore  them  on  his  hands 
he  could  break  the  rocks  with  them  and  grind  the  pieces 
into  powder;  he  had  magic  moccasins  also — shoes  made  of 
deer-skin  that  he  tied  about  his  feet,  and  when  he  put  on 
these  he  could  take  a  mile  at  every  step. 

Hiawatha  thought  a  great  deal  about  his  father,  Mud- 
jekeewis,  and  often  plagued  Nokomis  with  questions  about 
him,  until  at  last  she  told  Hiawatha  how  his  mother 
had  loved  Mudjekeewis,  who  left  her  to  die  of  sorrow;  and 
Hiawatha  was  so  angry  when  he  heard  the  story  that  his 
heart  felt  like  a  coal  of  fire.  He  said  to  Nokomis:  "I 
will  talk  with  Mudjekeewis,  my  father,  and  to  find  him  I 
will  go  to  the  Land  of  the  Sunset,  where  he  has  his 
kingdom." 

[15] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

So  Hiawatha  dressed  himself  for  travel  and  armed  him 
self  with  bow  and  a  war-club,  took  his  magic  mittens  and 
his  magic  moccasins,  and  set  out  all  alone  to  travel  to  the 
kingdom  of  the  West-wind.  And  although  Nokomis 
called  after  him  and  begged  him  to  turn  back,  he  would 
not  listen  to  her,  but  went  away  into  the  forest. 

For  days  and  days  he  traveled.  He  passed  the  Missis 
sippi  River;  he  crossed  the  prairies  where  the  buffaloes 
were  herding,  and  when  he  came  to  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
where  the  panther  and  the  grizzly  bear  have  their  homes, 
he  reached  the  Land  of  the  Sunset,  and  the  kingdom  of 
the  West- wind.  There  he  found  his  father,  Mudjekeewis. 

When  Hiawatha  saw  his  father  he  was  as  nearly  afraid 
as  he  had  ever  been  in  his  life,  for  his  father's  cloudy  hair 
tossed  and  waved  in  the  air  and  flashed  like  the  star  we 
call  the  comet,  trailing  long  streams  of  fire  through  the  sky. 
But  when  Mudjekeewis  saw  what  a  strong  and  handsome 
man  his  son  had  grown  to  be,  he  was  proud  and  happy; 
for  he  knew  that  Hiawatha  had  all  of  his  own  early 
strength  and  all  the  beauty  of  the  dead  Wenonah. 

"Welcome,  my  son,"  said  Mudjekeewis,  "to  the  king 
dom  of  the  West-wind.  I  have  waited  for  you  many  years, 
and  have  grown  very  lonely."  And  Mudjekeewis  and 
Hiawatha  talked  long  together;  but  all  the  while  Hia 
watha  was  thinking  of  his  dead  mother  and  the  wrong  that 
had  been  done  to  her,  and  he  became  more  and  more  angry. 

[16] 


HIAWATHA  AND  MUDJEKEEWIS 

He  hid  his  anger,  however,  and  listened  to  what  Mud- 
jekeewis  told  him,  and  Mudjekeewis  boasted  of  his  own 
early  bravery  and  of  his  body  that  was  so  tough  that  no 
body  could  do  him  any  harm.  "Can  nothing  hurt  you?" 
asked  Hiawatha,  and  Mudjekeewis  said:  "Nothing  but 
the  black  rock  yonder."  Then  he  smiled  at  Hiawatha  and 
said:  "Is  there  anything  that  can  harm  you,  my  son*?" 
And  Hiawatha,  who  did  not  wish  Mudjekeewis  to  know 
that  nothing  in  the  world  could  do  him  injury,  told  him 
that  only  the  bulrush  had  such  power. 

Then  they  talked  about  other  things — of  Hiawatha's 
brothers  who  ruled  the  winds,  Wabun  and  Shawondasee 
and  Kabibonokka,  and  about  the  beautiful  Wenonah,  Hia 
watha's  mother.  And  Hiawatha  cried  out  then  in  fury: 
"Father  though  you  be,  you  killed  Wenonah!"  And  he 
struck  with  his  magic  mittens  the  black  rock,  broke  it  into 
pieces,  and  threw  them  at  Mudjekeewis;  but  Mudjekeewis 
blew  them  back  with  his  breath,  and  remembering  what 
Hiawatha  had  said  about  the  bulrushes  he  tore  them  up 
from  the  mud,  roots  and  all,  and  used  them  as  a  whip  to 
lash  his  son. 

Thus  began  the  fearful  fight  between  Hiawatha  and  his 
father,  Mudjekeewis.  The  eagle  left  his  nest  and  circled 
in  the  air  above  them  as  they  fought;  the  bulrush  bent  and 
waved  like  a  tall  tree  in  a  storm,  and  great  pieces  of  the 
black  rock  crashed  upon  the  earth.  Three  days  the  fight 

[17] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

continued,  and  Mudjekeewis  was  driven  back — back  to 
the  end  of  the  world,  where  the  sun  drops  down  into  the 
empty  places  every  evening. 

"Stop!"  cried  Mudjekeewis,  "stop,  Hiawatha!  You 
cannot  kill  me.  I  have  put  you  to  this  trial  to  learn  how 
brave  you  are.  Now  I  will  give  you  a  great  prize.  Go 
back  to  your  home  and  people,  and  kill  all  the  monsters, 
and  all  the  giants  and  the  serpents,  as  I  killed  the  great 
bear  when  I  was  young.  And  at  last  when  Death  draws 
near  you3  and  his  awful  eyes  glare  on  you  from  the  dark 
ness,  I  will  give  you  a  part  of  my  kingdom  and  you  shall 
be  ruler  of  the  North-west  wind." 

Then  the  battle  ended  long  ago  among  the  mountains; 
and  if  you  do  not  believe  this  story,  go  there  and  see  for 
yourself  that  the  bulrush  grows  by  the  ponds  and  rivers, 
and  that  the  pieces  of  the  black  rock  are  scattered  all 
through  the  valleys,  where  they  fell  after  Hiawatha  had 
thrown  them  at  his  father. 

Hiawatha  started  homeward,  with  all  the  anger  taken 
from  his  heart.  Only  once  upon  his  way  he  stopped 
and  bought  the  heads  of  arrows  from  an  old  Arrow- 
maker  who  lived  in  the  land  of  the  Indians  called 
Dacotahs.  The  old  Arrow-maker  had  a  daughter,  whose 
laugh  was  as  musical  as  the  voice  of  the  waterfall 
by  which  she  lived,  and  Hiawatha  named  her  by  the 
name  of  the  rushing  waterfall — "Minnehaha" — Laughing 

[18] 


HIAWATHA'S  FASTING 

Water.  When  he  reached  his  native  village,  all  he  told 
to  Nokomis  was  of  the  battle  with  his  father.  ,  Of  the 
arrows  and  the  lovely  maiden,  Minnehaha,  he  did  not  say 
a  word. 

V 

HIAWATHA'S  FASTING 

THE  time  came  when  Hiawatha  felt  that  he  must 
show  the  tribes  of  Indians  that  he  would  do  them 
some  great  service,  and  he  went  alone  into  the  forest 
to  fast  and  pray,  and  see  if  he  could  not  learn  how 
to  help  his  fellow-men  and  make  them  happy.  In  the 
forest  he  built  a  wigwam,  where  nobody  might  disturb  him, 
and  he  went  without  food  for  seven  nights  and  seven  days. 
The  first  day,  he  walked  in  the  forest;  and  when  he  saw 
the  hare  leap  into  the  thicket  and  the  deer  dart  away  at 
his  approach  he  was  very  sad5  because  he  knew  that  if  the 
animals  of  the  forest  should  die,  or  go  and  hide  where  the 
Indians  could  not  hunt  them,  the  Indians  would  starve 
for  want  of  food.  "Must  our  lives  depend  on  the  hare 
and  on  the  red  deer?"  asked  Hiawatha,  and  he  prayed  to 
the  Great  Manito  to  tell  him  of  some  food  that  the  Indians 
might  always  be  able  to  find  when  they  were  hungry. 

The  next  day,  Hiawatha  walked  by  the  bank  of  the 
river,  and  saw  the  wild  rice  growing  and  the  blueberries 

[19] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

and  the  wild  strawberries  and  the  grape-vine  that  filled 
the  air  with  pleasant  odors;  and  he  knew  that  when  cold 
winter  came,  all  this  fruit  would  wither  and  the  Indians 
would  have  no  more  of  it  to  eat.  Again  he  prayed  to  the 
Great  Manito  to  tell  him  of  some  food  that  the  Indians 
might  enjoy  in  winter  and  summer,  in  autumn  and  in 
spring. 

The  third  day  that  Hiawatha  fasted,  he  was  too  weak 
to  walk  about  the  forest,  and  he  sat  by  the  shore  of  the  lake 
and  watched  the  yellow  perch  darting  about  in  the  sunny 
water.  Far  out  in  the  middle  of  the  lake  he  saw  Nahma, 
the  big  sturgeon,  leap  into  the  air  with  a  shower  of  spray 
and  fall  back  into  the  water  with  a  crash;  and  every  now 
and  then  the  pike  would  chase  a  school  of  minnows  into 
the  shallow  water  at  the  edges  of  the  lake  and  dart  among 
them  like  an  arrow.  And  Hiawatha  thought  of  how  a 
hot  summer  might  dry  up  the  lakes  and  rivers  and  kill  the 
fish,  or  drive  them  into  such  deep  water  that  nobody  could 
catch  them;  and  he  called  out  to  the  Great  Manito,  asking 
a  third  time  for  some  food  that  the  Indians  could  store 
away  and  use  when  there  was  no  game  in  the  forest,  and 
no  fruit  on  the  river  banks  or  in  the  fields,  and  no  fish  in 
any  of  the  lakes  and  rivers. 

On  the  fourth  day  that  Hiawatha  fasted,  he  was  so  weak 
from  hunger  that  he  could  not  even  go  out  and  sit  beside 

[20] 


HIAWATHA'S  FASTING 

the  lake,  but  lay  on  his  back  in  his  wigwam  and  watched 
the  rising  sun  burn  away  the  mist,  and  he  looked  up  into 
the  blue  sky,  wondering  if  the  Great  Manito  had  heard  his 
prayers  and  would  tell  him  of  this  food  that  he  wished  so 
much  to  find.  And  just  as  the  sun  was  sinking  down 
behind  the  hills,  Hiawatha  saw  a  young  man  with  golden 
hair  coming  through  the  forest  toward  his  wigwam,  and 
the  young  man  wore  a  wonderful  dress  of  the  brightest 
green,  with  silky  yellow  fringes  and  gay  tassels  that  waved 
behind  him  in  the  wind. 

The  young  man  walked  right  into  Hiawatha's  wigwam 
and  said :  "Hiawatha,  my  name  is  Mondamin,  and  I  have 
been  sent  by  the  Great  Manito  to  tell  you  that  he  has 
heard  your  prayers  and  will  give  you  the  food  that  you 
wish  to  find.  But  you  must  work  hard  and  suffer  a  great 
deal  before  this  food  is  given  you,  and  you  must  now 
come  out  of  your  wigwam  and  wrestle  with  me  in  the 
forest." 

Then  Hiawatha  rose  from  his  bed  of  leaves  and  branches, 
but  he  was  so  weak  that  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  follow 
Mondamin  from  the  wigwam.  He  wrestled  with  Monda 
min,  and  as  soon  as  he  touched  him  his  strength  began  to 
return.  They  wrestled  for  a  long  time  and  at  last  Monda 
min  said:  "It  is  enough.  You  have  wrestled  bravely, 
Hiawatha.  To-morrow  I  will  come  again  and  wrestle 

[21] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

with  you."     He  vanished,  and  Hiawatha  could  not  tell 
whether  he  had  sunk  into  the  ground  or  disappeared  into 

the  air. 

On  the  next  day,  when  the  sun  was  setting,  Mondamin 
came  again  to  wrestle  with  Hiawatha,  and  the  day  after 
that  he  came  also  and  they  wrestled  even  longer  than 
before.  Then  Mondamin  smiled  at  Hiawatha  and  said 
to  him:  "Three  times,  O  Hiawatha,  you  have  bravely 
wrestled  with  me.  To-morrow  I  shall  wrestle  with  you 
once  again,  and  you  will  overcome  me  and  throw  me  to  the 
earth  and  I  shall  seem  to  be  dead.  Then,  when  I  am 
lying  still  and  limp  on  the  ground,  do  you  take  off  my  gay 
clothes  and  bury  me  where  we  have  wrestled.  And  you 
must  make  the  ground  above  the  place  where  I  am  buried 
soft  and  light,  and  take  good  care  that  weeds  do  not  grow 
there  and  that  ravens  do  not  come  there  to  disturb  me, 
until  at  last  I  rise  again  from  the  ground  more  beautiful 
than  ever." 

True  to  his  word,  Mondamin  came  at  sunset  of  the  next 
day,  and  he  and  Hiawatha  wrestled  together  for  the  last 
time.  They  wrestled  after  evening  had  come  upon  them, 
until  at  last  Hiawatha  threw  Mondamin  to  the  ground, 
who  lay  there  as  if  dead. 

Then  Hiawatha  took  off  all  the  gay  green  clothes  that 
Mondamin  wore,  and  he  buried  Mondamin  and  made  the 
ground  soft  and  light  above  the  grave,  just  as  he  had  been 

[22] 


"DEAD  HE  LAY  THERE  IN  THE  SUNSET"—  Page  153 


HIAWATHA'S  FRIENDS 

told  to  do.  He  kept  the  weeds  from  growing  in  the  ground, 
and  kept  the  ravens  from  coming  to  the  place,  until  at 
last  he  saw  a  tiny  little  green  leaf  sticking  up  out  of  the 
grave.  The  little  leaf  grew  into  a  large  plant,  taller  than 
Hiawatha  himself,  and  the  plant  had  wonderful  green 
leaves  and  silky  yellow  fringes  and  gay  tassels  that  waved 
behind  it  in  the  wind.  "It  is  Mondamin!"  cried  out  Hia 
watha,  and  he  called  Nokomis  and  lagoo  to  see  the  won 
derful  plant  that  was  to  be  the  food  that  he  had  prayed 
for  to  the  Great  Manito. 

They  waited  until  autumn  had  turned  the  leaves  to 
yellow,  and  made  the  tender  kernels  hard  and  shiny,  and 
then  they  stripped  the  husks  and  gathered  the  ears  of  the 
wonderful  Indian  corn.  All  the  Indians  for  miles  around 
had  a  great  feast  and  were  happy,  because  they  knew  that 
with  a  little  care  they  would  have  corn  to  eat  in  winter 
and  in  summer,  in  autumn  and  in  spring. 

VI 

HIAWATHA'S  FRIENDS 

HIAWATHA   had  two  good  friends,  whom  he  had 
chosen  from  all  other  Indians  to  be  with  him 
always,    and    whom    he    loved    more    than    any    living 
men.    They   were    Chibiabos,    the    sweetest   singer,    and 
Kwasind,  the  strongest  man  in  the  world;  and  they  told 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

to  Hiawatha  all  their  secrets  as  he  told  his  to  them.  Best 
of  all  Hiawatha  loved  the  brave  and  beautiful  Chibiabos, 
who  was  such  a  wonderful  musician  that  when  he  sang 
people  flocked  from  villages  far  and  near  to  listen  to  him, 
and  even  the  animals  and  birds  left  their  dens  and  nests  to 
hear. 

Chibiabos  sang  so  sweetly  that  the  brook  would  pause 
in  its  course  and  murmur  to  him,  asking  him  to  teach  its 
waves  to  sing  his  songs  and  to  flow  as  softly  as  his  words 
flowed  when  he  was  singing.  The  envious  bluebird 
begged  Chibiabos  to  teach  it  songs  as  wild  and  wonderful 
as  his  own;  the  robin  tried  to  learn  his  notes  of  gladness, 
and  the  lonely  bird  of  night,  the  whippoorwill,  longed  to 
sing  as  Chibiabos  sang  when  he  was  sad.  He  could  imitate 
all  the  noises  of  the  woodland,  and  make  them  sound  even 
sweeter  than  they  really  were,  and  by  his  singing  he  could 
force  the  Indians  to  laugh  or  cry  or  dance,  just  as  he  chose. 

The  mighty  Kwasind  was  also  much  beloved  by  Hia 
watha,  who  believed  that  next  to  wonderful  songs  and  love 
and  wisdom  great  strength  was  the  finest  thing  in  the  world 
and  the  closest  to  perfect  goodness;  and  never,  in  all  the 
years  that  men  have  lived  upon  the  earth,  has  there  been 
another  man  so  strong  as  Kwasind. 

When  he  was  a  boy,  Kwasind  did  not  fish  or  play  with 
other  children,  but  seemed  very  dull  and  dreamy,  and  his 
father  and  mother  thought  that  they  were  bringing  up  a 

[24] 


HIAWATHA'S  FRIENDS 

fool.  "Lazy  Kwasind !"  his  mother  said  to  him,  "you  never 
help  me  with  my  work.  In  the  summer  you  roam  through 
the  fields  and  forests,  doing  nothing;  and  now  that  it  is 
winter  you  sit  beside  the  fire  like  an  old  woman,  and  leave 
me  to  break  the  ice  for  fishing  and  to  draw  the  nets  alone. 
Go  out  and  wring  them  now,  where  they  are  freezing  with 
the  water  that  is  in  them;  hang  them  up  to  dry  in  the  sun 
shine,  and  show  that  you  are  worth  the  food  that  you  eat 
and  the  clothes  you  wear  on  your  back." 

Without  a  word  Kwasind  rose  from  the  ashes  where  he 
was  sitting,  left  the  lodge  and  found  the  nets  dripping  and 
freezing  fast.  He  wrung  them  like  a  wisp  of  straw,  but 
his  fingers  were  so  strong  that  he  broke  them  in  a  hundred 
different  places,  and  his  strength  was  so  great  that  he  could 
not  help  breaking  the  nets  any  more  than  if  they  were  ten 
der  cobwebs. 

"Lazy  Kwasind !"  his  father  said  to  him,  "you  never  help 
me  in  my  hunting,  as  other  young  men  help  their  fathers. 
You  break  every  bow  you  touch,  and  you  snap  every  arrow 
that  you  draw.  Yet  you  shall  come  with  me  and  bring 
home  from  the  forest  what  I  kill." 

They  went  down  to  a  deep  and  narrow  valley  by  the 
side  of  a  little  brook,  where  the  tracks  of  bison  and  of  deer 
showed  plainly  in  the  mud;  and  at  last  they  came  to  a  place 
where  the  trunks  of  heavy  trees  were  piled  like  a  stone  wall 
across  the  valley. 

[25] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

"We  must  go  back,"  said  Kwasind's  father;  "we  can 
never  scale  those  logs.  They  are  packed  so  tightly  that  no 
woodchuck  could  get  through  them,  and  not  even  a  squirrel 
could  climb  over  the  top,"  and  the  old  man  sat  down  to 
smoke  and  rest  and  wonder  what  they  were  going  to  do; 
but  before  he  had  finished  his  pipe  the  way  lay  clear,  for 
the  strong  Kwasind  had  lifted  the  logs  as  if  they  were 
light  lances,  and  had  hurled  them  crashing  into  the  depths 
of  the  forest. 

"Lazy  Kwasind!"  shouted  the  young  men,  as  they  ran 
their  races  and  played  their  games  upon  the  meadows, 
"why  do  you  stay  idle  while  we  strive  with  one  another? 
Leave  the  rock  that  you  are  leaning  on  and  join  us.  Come 
and  wrestle  with  us,  and  see  who  can  pitch  the  quoit  the 
farthest." 

Kwasind  did  not  say  a  word  in  answer  to  them,  but  rose 
and  slowly  turned  to  the  huge  rock  on  which  he  had  been 
leaning.  He  gripped  it  with  both  hands,  tore  it  from  the 
ground  and  pitched  it  right  into  the  swift  Pauwating  River, 
where  you  can  still  see  it  in  the  summer  months,  as  it  towers 
high  above  the  current. 

Once  as  Kwasind  with  his  companions  was  sailing  down 
the  foaming  rapids  of  the  Pauwating  he  saw  a  beaver  in 
the  water — Ahmeek,  the  King  of  Beavers — who  was 
struggling  against  the  savage  current.  Without  a  word, 
Kwasind  leaped  into  the  water  and  chased  the  beaver  in 

[26] 


HIAWATHA'S  SAILING 

and  out  among  the  whirlpools.  He  followed  the  beaver 
among  the  islands,  dove  after  him  to  the  bottom  of  the  river 
and  stayed  under  water  so  long  that  his  companions 
believed  him  dead  and  cried  out:  "Alas,  we  shall  see  Kwa- 
sind  no  more!  He  is  drowned  in  the  whirlpool!"  But 
Kwasind's  head  showed  at  last  above  the  water  and  he 
swam  ashore,  carrying  the  King  of  Beavers  dead  upon  his 
shoulders. 

These  were  the  sort  of  men  that  Hiawatha  chose  to  be 
his  friends. 

VII 

HIAWATHA'S  SAILING 

ONCE  Hiawatha  was  sitting  alone  beside  the  swift 
and  mighty  river  Taquamenaw,  and  he  longed  for 
a  canoe  with  which  he  might  explore  the  river  from 
bank  to  bank,  and  learn  to  know  all  its  rapids  and  its 
shallows.  And  Hiawatha  set  about  building  himself  a 
canoe  such  as  he  needed,  and  he  called  upon  the  forest  to 
give  him  aid : 

"Give  me  your  bark,  O  Birch  Tree!"  cried  Hiawatha; 
"I  will  build  me  a  light  canoe  for  sailing  that  shall  float 
upon  the  river  like  a  yellow  leaf  in  autumn.  Lay  aside 
your  cloak,  O  Birch  Tree,  for  the  summer  time  is  coming." 
And  the  birch  tree  sighed  and  rustled  in  the  breeze,  mur 
muring  sadly :  "Take  my  cloak,  O  Hiawatha !" 

[27] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

With  his  knife  Hiawatha  cut  around  the  trunk  of  the 
birch-tree  just  beneath  the  branches  until  the  sap  came 
oozing  forth;  and  he  also  cut  the  bark  around  the  tree- 
trunk  just  above  the  roots.  He  slashed  the  bark  from  top 
to  bottom,  raised  it  with  wooden  wedges  and  stripped  it 
from  the  trunk  of  the  tree  without  a  crack  in  all  its  golden 
surface. 

"Give  me  your  boughs,  O  Cedar!"  cried  Hiawatha. 
"Give  me  your  strong  and  pliant  branches,  to  make  my 
canoe  firmer  and  tougher  beneath  me."  Through  all  the 
branches  of  the  cedar  there  swept  a  noise  as  if  somebody 
were  crying  with  horror,  but  the  tree  at  last  bent  downward 
and  whispered :  "Take  my  boughs,  O  Hiawatha." 

He  cut  down  the  boughs  of  the  cedar  and  made  them  into 
a  framework  with  the  shape  of  two  bows  bent  together,  and 
he  covered  this  framework  with  the  rich  and  yellow  bark. 

"Give  me  your  roots,  O  Larch  Tree!"  cried  Hiawatha, 
"to  bind  the  ends  of  my  canoe  together,  that  the  water  may 
not  enter  and  the  river  may  not  wet  me!"  The  larch-tree 
shivered  in  the  air  and  touched  Hiawatha's  forehead  with 
its  tassels,  sighing:  "Take  them,  take  them !"  as  he  tore  the 
fibres  from  the  earth.  With  the  tough  roots  he  sewed  the 
ends  of  his  canoe  together  and  bound  the  bark  tightly  to 
the  framework,  and  his  canoe  became  light  and  graceful  in 
shape.  He  took  the  balsam  and  pitch  of  the  fir-tree  and 
smeared  the  seams  so  that  no  water  might  ooze  in,  and  he 

[28] 


HIAWATHA'S  SAILING 

asked  for  the  quills  of  Kagh,  the  hedgehog,  to  make  a  neck 
lace  and  two  stars  for  his  canoe. 

Thus  did  Hiawatha  build  his  birch  canoe,  and  all  the 
life  and  magic  of  the  forest  was  held  in  it;  for  it  had  all  the 
lightness  of  the  bark  of  the  birch-tree,  all  the  toughness  of 
the  boughs  of  the  cedar,  and  it  danced  and  floated  on  the 
river  as  lightly  as  a  yellow  leaf. 

Hiawatha  did  not  have  any  paddles  for  his  canoe,  and  he 
needed  none,  for  he  could  guide  it  by  merely  wishing  that 
it  should  turn  to  the  right  or  to  the  left.  The  canoe  would 
move  in  whatever  direction  he  chose,  and  would  glide  over 
the  water  swiftly  or  slowly  just  as  he  desired.  All  Hia 
watha  had  to  do  was  to  sit  still  and  think  where  he  cared  to 
have  it  take  him.  Never  was  there  such  a  wonderful  craft 
before. 

Then  Hiawatha  called  to  Kwasind,  and  asked  for  help 
in  clearing  away  all  the  sunken  logs  and  all  the  rocks,  and 
sandbars  in  the  river-bed,  and  he  and  Kwasind  traveled 
down  the  whole  length  of  the  river.  Kwasind  swam  and 
dove  like  a  beaver,  tugging  at  sunken  logs,  scooping  out 
the  sandbars  with  his  hands,  kicking  the  boulders  out  of 
the  stream  and  digging  away  all  the  snags  and  tangles. 
They  went  back  and  forth  and  up  and  down  the  river, 
Kwasind  working  just  as  hard  as  he  was  able,  and  Hia 
watha  showing  him  where  he  could  find  new  logs  and  rocks, 
and  sandbars  to  remove,  until  together  they  made  the  chan- 

[29] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

nel  safe  and  regular  all  the  way  from  where  the  river  rose 
among  the  mountains  in  little  springs  to  where  it  emptied 
a  wide  and  rolling  sheet  of  water  into  the  bay  of  Taqua- 
menaw. 

VIII 

HIAWATHA'S  FISHING 

IN  his  wonderful  canoe,  Hiawatha  sailed  over  the  shin 
ing  Big-Sea-Water  to  go  fishing  and  to  catch  with  his 
fishing-line  made  of  cedar  no  other  than  the  very  King 
of  Fishes — Nahma,  the  big  sturgeon.  All  alone  Hiawatha 
sailed  over  the  lake,  but  on  the  bow  of  his  canoe  sat  a 
squirrel,  frisking  and  chattering  at  the  thought  of  all  the 
wonderful  sport  that  he  was  going  to  see.  Through  the 
calm,  clear  water  Hiawatha  saw  the  fishes  swimming  to 
and  fro.  First  he  saw  the  yellow  perch  that  shone  like  a 
sunbeam ;  then  he  saw  the  crawfish  moving  along  the  sandy 
bottom  of  the  lake,  and  at  last  he  saw  a  great  blue  shape 
that  swept  the  sand  floor  with  its  mighty  tail  and  waved 
its  huge  fins  lazily  backward  and  forward,  and  Hiawatha 
knew  that  this  monster  was  Nahma,  the  Sturgeon,  King  of 
all  the  Fishes. 

"Take  my  bait!"  shouted  Hiawatha,  dropping  his  line  of 
cedar  into  the  calm  water.  "Come  up  and  take  my  bait,  O 
Nahma,  King  of  Fishes !"  But  the  great  fish  did  not  move, 

[30] 


HIAWATHA'S  FISHING 

although  Hiawatha  shouted  to  him  over  and  over  again. 
At  last,  however,  Nahma  began  to  grow  tired  of  the  endless 
shouting,  and  he  said  to  Maskenozha,  the  pike :  "Take  the 
bait  of  this  rude  fellow,  Hiawatha,  and  break  his  line." 

Hiawatha  felt  the  fishing-line  tighten  with  a  snap,  and  as 
he  pulled  it  in,  Maskenozha,  the  pike,  tugged  so  hard  that 
the  canoe  stood  almost  on  end,  with  the  squirrel  perched  on 
the  top ;  but  when  Hiawatha  saw  what  fish  it  was  that  had 
taken  his  bait  he  was  full  of  scorn  and  shouted:  "Shame 
upon  you !  You  are  not  the  King  of  Fishes ;  you  are  only 
the  pike,  Maskenozha!"  and  the  pike  let  go  of  Hiawatha's 
line  and  sank  back  to  the  bottom,  very  much  ashamed. 

Then  Nahma  said  to  the  sunfish,  Ugudwash:  "Take 
Hiawatha's  bait,  and  break  his  line!  I  am  tired  of  his 
shouting  and  his  boasting,"  and  the  sunfish  rose  up  through 
the  water  like  a  great  white  moon.  It  seized  Hiawatha's 
line  and  struggled  so  that  the  canoe  made  a  whirlpool  in 
the  water  and  rocked  until  the  waves  it  made  splashed 
upon  the  beaches  at  the  rim  of  the  lake ;  but  when  Hiawa 
tha  saw  the  fish  he  was  very  angry  and  shouted  out  again : 
"Oh  shame  upon  you!  You  are  the  sunfish,  Ugudwash, 
and  you  come  when  I  call  for  Nahma,  King  of  Fishes !"  and 
the  sunfish  let  go  of  Hiawatha's  line  and  sank  to  the  bot 
tom,  where  he  hid  among  the  lily  stems. 

Then  Nahma,  the  great  sturgeon,  heard  Hiawatha  shout 
ing  at  him  once  again,  and  furious  he  rose  with  a  swirl  to  the 

[31] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

top  of  the  water;  leaped  in  the  air,  scattering  the  spray  on 
every  side,  and  opening  his  huge  jaws  he  made  a  rush  at  the 
canoe  and  swallowed  Hiawatha,  canoe  and  all. 

Into  the  dark  cave  of  Nahma' s  giant  maw,  Hiawatha  in 
his  canoe  plunged  headlong,  as  a  log  rushes  down  a  roaring 
river  in  the  springtime.  At  first  he  was  frightened,  for  it 
was  so  inky  black  that  he  could  not  see  his  hand  before  his 
face;  but  at  last  he  felt  a  great  heart  beating  in  the  darkness, 
and  he  clenched  his  fist  and  struck  the  giant  heart  with  all 
his  strength.  As  he  struck  it,  he  felt  Nahma  tremble  all 
over,  and  he  heard  the  water  gurgle  as  the  great  fish  rushed 
through  it  trying  to  breathe,  and  Hiawatha  struck  the 
mighty  heart  yet  another  heavy  blow. 

Then  he  dragged  his  canoe  crosswise,  so  that  he  might  not 
be  thrown  from  the  belly  of  the  great  fish  and  be  drowned 
in  the  swirling  water  where  Nahma  was  fighting  for  life, 
and  the  little  squirrel  helped  Hiawatha  drag  his  canoe  into 
safety  and  tugged  and  pulled  bravely  at  Hiawatha's  side. 
Hiawatha  was  grateful  to  the  little  squirrel,  and  told  him 
that  for  a  reward  the  boys  should  always  call  him  Adjid- 
aumo,  which  means  ' 'tail-in- the-air,"  and  the  little  squirrel 
was  much  pleased. 

At  last  everything  became  quiet,  and  Nahma,  the  great 
sturgeon,  lay  dead  and  drifted  on  the  surface  of  the  water 
to  the  shore,  where  Hiawatha  heard  him  grate  upon  the 
pebbles.  There  was  a  great  screaming  and  flapping  of 

[32] 


HIAWATHA'S  FISHING 

wings  outside,  and  finally  a  gleam  of  light  shone  to  the 
place  where  Hiawatha  was  sitting,  and  he  could  see  the 
glittering  eyes  of  the  sea-gulls,  who  had  crawled  into  the 
open  mouth  of  Nahma  and  were  peering  down  his  gullet. 
Hiawatha  called  out  to  them:  "O  my  Brothers,  the  Sea- 
Gulls,  I  have  killed  the  great  King  of  Fishes,  Nahma,  the 
sturgeon.  Scratch  and  tear  with  your  beaks  and  claws 
until  the  opening  becomes  wider  and  you  can  set  me  free 
from  this  dark  prison !  Do  this,  and  men  shall  always  call 
you  Kayoshk,  the  sea-gulls,  the  Noble  Scratchers." 

The  sea-gulls  set  to  work  with  a  will,  and  scratched  and 
tore  at  Nahma's  ribs  until  there  was  an  opening  wide 
enough  for  Hiawatha  and  the  squirrel  to  step  through  and 
to  drag  the  canoe  out  after  them.  Hiawatha  called 
Nokomis,  pointed  to  the  body  of  the  sturgeon  and  said: 
"See,  Nokomis,  I  have  killed  Nahma,  the  King  of  Fishes, 
and  the  sea-gulls  feed  upon  him.  You  must  not  drive 
them  away,  for  they  saved  me  from  great  danger;  but  when 
they  fly  back  to  their  nests  at  sunset,  do  you  bring  your  pots 
and  kettles  and  make  from  Nahma's  flesh  enough  oil  to  last 
us  through  the  winter." 

Nokomis  waited  until  sunset,  when  the  sea-gulls  had 
flown  back  to  their  homes  in  the  marshes,  and  she  set 
to  work  with  all  her  pots  and  kettles  to  make  yellow  oil 
from  the  flesh  of  Nahma.  She  worked  all  night  long  until 
the  sun  rose  again  and  the  sea-gulls  came  back  screeching 

[33] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

and  screaming  for  their  breakfast;  and  for  three  days  and 
three  nights  the  sea-gulls  and  Nokomis  took  turns  in  strip 
ping  the  greasy  flesh  of  Nahma  from  his  ribs,  until  nothing 
was  left.  Then  the  sea-gulls  flew  away  for  good  and  all, 
Nokomis  poured  her  oil  into  great  jars,  and  on  the  sand  was 
only  the  bare  skeleton  of  Nahma,  who  had  once  been  the 
biggest  and  the  strongest  fish  that  ever  swam. 

IX 

HIAWATHA  AND  THE  PEARL-FEATHER 

ONCE  Nokomis  was  standing  with  Hiawatha  beside 
her  upon  the  shore  of  the  Big-Sea-Water,  watching 
the  sunset,  and  she  pointed  to  the  west,  and  said  to 
Hiawatha :  "There  is  the  dwelling  of  the  Pearl-Feather,  the 
great  wizard  who  is  guarded  by  the  fiery  snakes  that  coil 
and  play  together  in  the  black  pitch-water.  You  can  see 
them  now."  And  Hiawatha  beheld  the  fiery  snakes  twist 
and  wriggle  in  the  black  water  and  coil  and  uncoil  them 
selves  in  play.  Nokomis  went  on:  "The  great  wizard 
killed  my  father,  who  had  come  down  from  the  moon  to  find 
me.  He  killed  him  by  wicked  spells  and  by  sly  cunning, 
and  now  he  sends  the  rank  mist  of  marshes  and  the  deadly 
fog  that  brings  sickness  and  death  among  our  people. 
Take  your  bow,  Hiawatha,"  said  Nokomis,  "and  your  war- 
club  and  your  magic  mittens.  Take  the  oil  of  the  sturgeon, 

[34] 


HIAWATHA  AND  THE  PEARL-FEATHER 

Nahma,  so  that  your  canoe  may  glide  easily  through  the 
sticky  black  pitch-water,  and  go  and  kill  this  great  wizard. 
Save  our  people  from  the  fever  that  he  breathes  at  them 
across  the  marshes,  and  punish  him  for  my  father's  death." 

Swiftly  Hiawatha  took  his  war-club  and  his  arrows  and 
his  magic  mittens,  launched  his  birch  canoe  upon  the  water 
and  cried :  "O  Birch  Canoe,  leap  forward  where  you  see  the 
snakes  that  play  in  the  black  pitch-water.  Leap  forward 
swiftly,  O  my  Birch  Canoe,  while  I  sing  my  war-song,"  and 
the  canoe  darted  forward  like  a  live  thing  until  it  reached 
the  spot  where  the  fiery  serpents  were  sporting  in  the  water. 

"Out  of  my  way,  O  serpents!"  cried  Hiawatha,  "out  of 
my  way  and  let  me  go  to  fight  with  Pearl-Feather,  the 
awful  wizard!"  But  the  serpents  only  hissed  and  an 
swered:  "Go  back,  Coward;  go  back  to  old  Nokomis, 
Faint-heart!" 

Then  Hiawatha  took  his  bow  and  sent  his  arrows  singing 
among  the  serpents,  and  at  every  shot  one  of  them  was 
killed,  until  they  all  lay  dead  upon  the  water. 

"Onward,  my  Birch  Canoe!"  cried  Hiawatha;  "onward 
to  the  home  of  the  great  wizard!"  and  the  canoe  darted  for 
ward  once  again. 

It  was  a  strange,  strange  place  that  Hiawatha  had 
entered  with  his  birch  canoe !  The  water  was  as  black  as 
ink,  and  on  the  shores  of  the  lake  dead  men  lit  fires  that 
twinkled  in  the  darkness  like  the  eyes  of  a  wicked  old 

[35] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

witch.  Awful  shrieks  and  whistling  echoed  over  the 
water,  and  the  heron  flapped  about  the  marshes  to  tell  all 
the  evil  beings  who  lived  there  that  Hiawatha  was  coming 
to  fight  with  the  great  wizard. 

Hiawatha  sailed  over  this  dismal  lake  all  night  long,  and 
at  last,  when  the  sun  rose,  he  saw  on  the  shore  in  front  of  him 
the  wigwam  of  the  great  magician,  Pearl-Feather.  The 
canoe  darted  ahead  faster  and  faster  until  it  grated  on  the 
beach,  and  Hiawatha  fitted  an  arrow  to  his  bowstring  and 
sent  it  hissing  into  the  open  doorway  of  the  wigwam. 

"Come  out  and  fight  me,  Pearl-Feather!"  cried  Hia 
watha;  "come  out  and  fight  me  if  you  dare !" 

Then  Pearl-Feather  stepped  out  of  his  wigwam  and 
stood  in  the  open  before  Hiawatha.  He  was  painted  red 
and  yellow  and  blue  and  was  terrible  to  see.  In  his  hand 
was  a  heavy  war-club,  and  he  wore  a  shirt  of  shining  wam 
pum  that  would  keep  out  an  arrow  and  break  the  force  of 
any  blow. 

"Well  do  I  know  you,  Hiawatha!"  shouted  Pearl- 
Feather  in  a  deep  and  awful  voice.  "Go  back  to  Nokomis, 
coward  that  you  are ;  for  if  you  stay  here,  I  will  kill  you  as 
I  killed  her  father." 

"Words  are  not  as  sharp  as  arrows,"  answered  Hia 
watha,  bending  his  bow. 

Then  began  a  battle  even  more  terrible  than  the  one 
among  the  mountains  when  Hiawatha  fought  with  Mud- 

[36] 


HIAWATHA  AND  THE  PEARL-FEATHER 

jekeewis,  and  it  lasted  all  one  summer's  day.  For  Hia 
watha's  arrows  could  not  pierce  Pearl-Feather's  shirt  of 
wampum,  and  he  could  not  break  it  with  the  blows  of  his 
magic  mittens. 

At  sunset  Hiawatha  was  so  weary  that  he  leaned  on  his 
bow  to  rest.  His  heavy  war-club  was  broken,  his  magic 
mittens  were  torn  to  pieces,  and  he  had  only  three  arrows 
left.  "Alas,"  sighed  Hiawatha,  "the  great  magician  is 
too  strong  for  me !" 

Suddenly,  from  the  branches  of  the  tree  nearest  him,  he 
heard  the  woodpecker  calling  to  him:  "Hiawatha,  Hia 
watha,"  said  the  woodpecker,  "aim  your  arrows  at  the  tuft 
of  hair  on  Pearl-Feather's  head.  Aim  them  at  the  roots  of 
his  long  black  hair,  for  there  alone  can  you  do  him  any 
harm."  Just  then  Pearl-Feather  stooped  to  pick  up  a  big 
stone  to  throw  at  Hiawatha,  who  bent  his  bow  and  struck 
Pearl-Feather  with  an  arrow  right  on  the  top  of  the  head. 
Pearl-Feather  staggered  forward  like  a  wounded  buffalo. 
"Twang!"  went  the  bowstring  again,  and  the  wizard's 
knees  trembled  beneath  him,  for  the  second  arrow  had 
struck  in  the  same  spot  as  the  first  and  had  made  the  wound 
much  deeper.  A  third  arrow  followed  swiftly,  and  Pearl- 
Feather  saw  the  eyes  of  Death  glare  at  him  from  the 
darkness,  and  he  fell  forward  on  his  face  right  at  the  feet 
of  Hiawatha  and  lay  there  dead. 

Then  Hiawatha  called  the  woodpecker  to  him,  and  as 

[37] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

a  mark  of  gratitude  he  stained  the  tuft  of  feathers  on  the 
woodpecker's  head  with  the  blood  of  the  dead  Pearl- 
Feather,  and  the  woodpecker  wears  his  tuft  of  blood-red 
feathers  to  this  day. 

Hiawatha  took  the  shirt  of  wampum  from  the  dead 
wizard  as  a  sign  of  victory,  and  from  Pearl-Feather's  wig 
wam  he  carried  all  the  skins  and  furs  and  arrows  that  he 
could  find,  and  they  were  many.  He  loaded  his  canoe 
with  them  and  sped  homeward  over  the  pitch-water,  past 
the  dead  bodies  of  the  fiery  serpents  until  he  saw  Chibiabos 
and  Kwasind  and  Nokomis  waiting  for  him  on  the  shore. 
All  the  Indians  assembled  and  gave  a  feast  in  Hia 
watha's  honor,  and  they  sang  and  danced  for  joy  because 
the  great  wizard  would  never  again  send  sickness  and 
death  among  them.  And  Hiawatha  took  the  red  crest  of 
the  woodpecker  to  decorate  his  pipe,  for  he  knew  that  to 
the  woodpecker  his  victory  was  due. 

X 

HIAWATHA'S  WOOING 

CCT1T  TOMAN  is  to  man  as  the  cord  is  to  the  bow," 
\  \  thought  Hiawatha.  "She  bends  him,  yet 
obeys  him;  she  draws  him,  yet  she  follows.  Each  is  use 
less  without  the  other."  Hiawatha  was  dreaming  of  the 
lovely  maiden,  Minnehaha,  whom  he  had  seen  in  the  coun 
try  of  the  Dacotahs. 

[38] 


HIAWATHA'S  WOOING 

"Do  not  wed  a  stranger,  Hiawatha,"  warned  the  old 
Nokomis;  "do  not  search  in  the  east  or  in  the  west  to  win 
a  bride.  Take  a  maid  of  your  own  people,  for  the  homely 
daughter  of  a  neighbor  is  like  the  pleasant  fire  on  the 
hearth-stone,  while  the  stranger  is  cold  and  distant,  like 
the  starlight  or  the  light  of  the  pale  moon." 

But  Hiawatha  only  smiled  and  answered :  "Dear  Noko 
mis,  the  fire  on  the  hearth-stone  is  indeed  pleasant  and 
warm,  but  I  love  the  starlight  and  the  moonlight  better." 

"Do  not  bring  home  an  idle  woman,"  said  old  Nokomis, 
"bring  not  home  a  maiden  who  is  unskilled  with  the  needle 
and  will  neither  cook  nor  sew!"  And  Hiawatha  an 
swered:  "Good  Nokomis,  in  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs  lives 
the  daughter  of  an  Arrow-maker,  and  she  is  the  most  beau 
tiful  of  all  the  women  in  the  world.  Her  name  is  Minne- 
haha,  and  I  will  bring  her  home  to  do  your  bidding  and  to 
be  your  firelight,  your  moonlight,  and  your  starlight,  all  in 
one." 

"Ah,  Hiawatha,"  warned  Nokomis,  "bring  not  home  a 
maid  of  the  Dacotahs !  The  Dacotahs  are  fierce  and  cruel 
and  there  is  often  war  between  our  tribe  and  theirs." 
Hiawatha  laughed  and  answered:  "I  will  wed  a  maid  of 
the  Dacotahs,  and  old  wars  shall  be  forgotten  in  a  new  and 
lasting  peace  that  shall  make  the  two  tribes  friends  for- 
evermore.  For  this  alone  would  I  wed  the  lovely  Laugh 
ing  Water  if  there  were  no  other  reason." 

[39] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

Hiawatha  left  his  wigwam  for  the  home  of  the  old 
Arrow-maker,  and  he  ran  through  the  forest  as  lightly  as 
the  wind,  until  he  heard  the  clear  voice  of  the  Falls  of 
Minnehaha. 

At  the  sunny  edges  of  the  forest  a  herd  of  deer  were 
feeding,  and  they  did  not  see  the  swift-footed  runner  until 
he  sent  a  hissing  arrow  among  them  that  killed  a  roebuck. 
Without  pausing,  Hiawatha  caught  up  the  deer  and 
swung  it  to  his  shoulder,  running  forward  until  he  came 
to  the  home  of  the  aged  Arrow-maker. 

The  old  man  was  sitting  in  the  doorway  of  his  wigwam, 
and  at  his  side  were  all  his  tools  and  all  the  arrows  he  was 
making.  At  his  side,  also,  was  the  lovely  Minnehaha, 
weaving  mats  of  reeds  and  water-rushes,  and  the  old  man 
and  the  young  maiden  sat  together  in  the  pleasant  con 
trast  of  age  and  youth,  the  one  thinking  of  the  past,  the 
other  dreaming  of  the  future. 

The  old  man  was  thinking  of  the  days  when  with  such 
arrows  as  he  now  was  making  he  had  killed  deer  and 
bison,  and  had  shot  the  wild  goose  on  the  wing.  He  re 
membered  the  great  war-parties  that  came  to  buy  his 
arrows,  and  how  they  could  not  fight  unless  he  had  arrow 
heads  to  sell.  Alas,  such  days  were  over,  he  thought 
sadly,  and  no  such  splendid  warriors  were  left  on  earth. 

The  maiden  was  dreaming  of  a  tall,  handsome  hunter, 
who  had  come  one  morning  when  the  year  was  young  to 

[40] 


HIAWATHA'S  WOOING 

purchase  arrows  of  her  father.  He  had  rested  in  their 
wigwam,  lingered  and  looked  back  as  he  was  leaving,  and 
her  father  had  praised  his  courage  and  his  wisdom.  Would 
the  hunter  ever  come  again  in  search  of  arrows,  thought 
the  lovely  Minnehaha,  and  the  rushes  she  was  weaving  lay 
unnngered  in  her  lap. 

Just  then  they  heard  a  rustle  and  swift  footsteps  in  the 
thicket,  and  Hiawatha  with  the  deer  upon  his  shoulders 
and  a  glow  upon  his  cheek  and  forehead  stood  before  them 
in  the  sunlight. 

"Welcome,  Hiawatha,"  said  the  old  Arrow-maker  in  a 
grave  but  friendly  tone,  and  Minnehaha's  light  voice 
echoed  the  deep  one  of  her  father,  saying:  "Welcome, 
Hiawatha." 

Together  the  old  Arrow-maker  and  Hiawatha  entered 
the  wigwam,  and  Minnehaha  laid  aside  her  mat  of  rushes 
and  brought  them  food  and  drink  in  vessels  of  earth  and 
bowls  of  basswood.  Yet  she  did  not  say  a  word  while  she 
was  serving  them,  but  listened  as  if  in  a  dream  to  what 
Hiawatha  told  her  father  about  Nokomis  and  Chibiabos 
and  the  strong  man,  Kwasind,  and  the  happiness  and  peace 
of  his  own  people,  the  Ojibways.  Hiawatha  finished 
his  words  by  saying  very  slowly:  "That  this  peace  may 
always  be  among  us  and  our  tribes  become  as  brothers  to 
each  other,  give  me  the  hand  of  your  daughter,  Minnehaha, 
the  loveliest  of  women." 

[41] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

The  aged  Arrow-maker  paused  before  he  answered, 
looked  proudly  at  Hiawatha  and  lovingly  at  his  daughter, 
and  then  said : 

"You  may  have  her  if  she  wishes  it.  Speak,  Minne- 
haha,  and  let  us  know  your  will." 

The  lovely  Minnehaha  seemed  more  beautiful  than  ever 
as  she  looked  first  at  Hiawatha  and  then  at  her  old  father. 
Softly  she  took  the  seat  beside  Hiawatha,  blushing  as  she 
answered:  "I  will  follow  you,  my  husband." 

Thus  did  Hiawatha  win  the  daughter  of  the  ancient 
Arrow-maker.  Together  he  and  his  bride  left  the  wig 
wam  hand  in  hand  and  went  away  over  the  meadows, 
while  the  old  Arrow-maker  with  shaded  eyes  gazed  after 
them  and  called  out  sadly:  "Good-bye,  Minnehaha!  Good 
bye  my  lovely  daughter!" 

They  walked  together  through  the  sunlit  forest,  and  all 
the  birds  and  animals  gazed  at  them  from  among  the  leaves 
and  branches. 

When  they  came  to  swift  rivers,  Hiawatha  lifted  Min 
nehaha  and  carried  her  across,  and  in  his  strong  arms  she 
seemed  lighter  than  a  willow-leaf  or  the  plume  upon 
his  headgear.  At  night  he  cleared  away  the  thicket  and 
built  a  lodge  of  branches ;  he  made  a  bed  of  hemlock  boughs 
and  kindled  a  fire  of  pine-cones  before  the  doorway,  and 
Adjidaumo,  the  squirrel,  climbed  down  from  his  nest  and 

[42] 


EHERICK  A  STOKES  COMPANY 


'PLEASANT  WAS  THE  JOURNEY  HOMEWARD" — Page  199 


HIAWATHA'S  WEDDING  FEAST 

kept  watch,  while  the  two  lovers  slept  in  their  lodge  be 
neath  the  stars. 


XI 

HIAWATHA'S  WEDDING  FEAST 

A  GREAT  feast  was  prepared  by  Hiawatha  to 
celebrate  his  wedding.  That  the  feast  might  be 
one  of  joy  and  gladness,  the  sweet  singer  Chibiabos 
sang  his  love-songs;  that  it  might  be  merry,  the  hand 
some  Pau-Puk-Keewis  danced  his  liveliest  dances;  and  to 
make  the  wedding  guests  even  more  content,  lagoo,  the 
great  boaster,  told  them  a  wonderful  story.  Oh,  but  it 
was  a  splendid  feast  that  Nokomis  prepared  at  the  bid 
ding  of  Hiawatha!  She  sent  messengers  with  willow- 
wands  through  all  the  village  as  a  sign  that  all  Ojibways 
were  invited,  and  the  wedding  guests  wore  their  very 
brightest  garments — rich  fur  robes  and  wampum-belts, 
beads  of  many  colors,  paint  and  feathers  and  gay  tassels. 
All  the  bowls  at  the  feast  were  made  of  white  and  shining 
basswood ;  all  the  spoons  were  made  of  bison  horn,  as  black 
as  ink  and  polished  until  the  black  was  as  bright  as  silver, 
and  the  Indians  feasted  on  the  flesh  of  the  sturgeon  and 
the  pike,  on  buffalo  marrow  and  the  hump  of  the  bison 
and  the  haunch  of  the  red  deer.  They  ate  pounded 

[431 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

meat  called  pemican  and  the  wild  rice  that  grew  by  the 
river-bank  and  golden-yellow  cakes  of  Indian  corn.  It  was 
a  feast  indeed ! 

But  the  kind  host  Hiawatha  did  not  take  a  mouthful  of 
all  this  tempting  food.  Neither  did  Minnehaha  nor  Noko- 
mis,  but  all  three  waited  on  their  guests  and  served  them 
carefully  until  their  wants  were  generously  satisfied. 
When  all  had  finished,  old  Nokomis  filled  from  an  ample 
otter  pouch  the  red  stone  pipes  with  fragrant  tobacco  of 
the  south,  and  when  the  blue  smoke  was  rising  freely  she 
said:  "O  Pau-Puk-Keewis,  dance  your  merry  Beggar's 
Dance  to  please  us,  so  the  time  may  pass  more  pleasantly 
and  our  guests  may  be  more  gay." 

Pau-Puk-Keewis  rose  and  stood  amid  the  guests.  He 
wore  a  white  shirt  of  doeskin,  fringed  with  ermine  and 
covered  with  beads  of  wampum.  He  wore  deerskin 
leggings,  also  fringed  with  ermine  and  with  quills 
of  Kagh,  the  hedgehog.  On  his  feet  were  buck 
skin  moccasins,  richly  embroidered,  and  red  foxes'  tails 
to  flourish  while  he  danced  were  fastened  to  the  heels.  A 
snowy  plume  of  swan's  down  floated  over  his  head,  and  he 
carried  a  gay  fan  in  one  hand  and  a  pipe  with  tassels  in  the 
other. 

All  the  warriors  disliked  Pau-Puk-Keewis,  and  called 
him  coward  and  idler;  but  he  cared  not  at  all,  because 
he  was  so  handsome  that  all  the  women  and  the  maidens 

[44] 


HIAWATHA'S  WEDDING  FEAST 

loved  him.  To  the  sound  of  drums  and  flutes  and  sing 
ing  voices  Pau-Puk-Keewis  now  began  the  Dance  of 
Beggars. 

First  he  danced  with  slow  steps  and  stately  motion  in 
and  out  of  the  shadows  and  the  sunshine,  gliding  like  a 
panther  among  the  pine-trees;  but  his  steps  became  faster 
and  faster  and  wilder  and  wilder,  until  the  wind  and  dust 
swept  around  him  as  he  danced.  Time  after  time  he 
leaped  over  the  heads  of  the  assembled  guests  and  rushed 
around  the  wigwam,  and  at  last  he  sped  along  the  shore 
of  the  Big-Sea-Water,  stamping  on  the  sand  and  tossing  it 
furiously  in  the  air,  until  the  wind  had  become  a  whirl 
wind  and  the  sand  was  blown  in  great  drifts  like  snowdrifts 
all  over  the  shore. 

There  they  have  stayed  until  this  day,  the  great  Sand 
Hills  of  the  Nagow  Wudjoo. 

When  the  Beggar's  Dance  was  over,  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
returned  and  sat  down  laughing  among  the  guests  and 
fanned  himself  as  calmly  as  if  he  had  not  stirred  from  his 
seat,  while  all  the  guests  cried  out :  "Sing  to  us,  Chibiabos, 
sing  your  love  songs!"  and  Hiawatha  and  Nokomis  said: 
"Yes,  sing,  Chibiabos,  that  our  guests  may  enjoy  them 
selves  all  the  more,  and  our  feast  may  pass  more  gayly !" 

Chibiabos  rose,  and  his  wonderful  voice  swelled  all  the 
echoes  of  the  forest,  until  the  streams  paused  in  their 
courses,  and  the  listening  beavers  came  to  the  surface  of 

[45] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

the  water  so  that  they  might  hear.  He  sang  so  sweetly 
that  his  voice  caused  the  pine-trees  to  quiver  as  if  a  wind 
were  passing  through  them,  and  strange  sounds  seemed  to 
run  along  the  earth.  All  the  Indians  were  spellbound  by 
his  singing,  and  sat  as  if  they  had  been  turned  to  stone. 
Even  the  smoke  ceased  to  rise  from  their  pipes  while 
Chibiabos  sang,  but  when  he  had  ended  they  shouted  with 
joy  and  praised  him  in  loud  voices. 

lagoo,  the  mighty  boaster,  alone  did  not  join  in  the  roar 
of  praise,  for  he  was  jealous  of  Chibiabos,  and  longed  to 
tell  one  of  his  great  stories  to  the  Indians.  When  lagoo 
heard  of  any  adventure  he  always  told  of  a  greater  one  that 
had  happened  to  himself,  and  to  listen  to  him,  you  would 
think  that  nobody  was  such  a  mighty  hunter  and  nobody 
was  such  a  valiant  fighter  as  he.  If  you  would  only  be 
lieve  him,  you  would  learn  nobody  had  ever  shot  an  arrow 
half  so  far  as  he  had,  that  nobody  could  run  so  fast,  or 
dive  so  deep,  or  leap  so  high,  and  that  nobody  in  the  wide 
world  had  ever  seen  so  many  wonders  as  the  brave,  great, 
and  wonderful  lagoo. 

This  was  the  reason  that  his  name  had  become  a  byword 
among  the  Indians;  and  whenever  a  hunter  spoke  too 
highly  of  his  own  deeds,  or  a  warrior  talked  too  much  of 
what  he  had  done  in  battle,  his  hearers  shouted:  "See, 
lagoo  is  among  us!" 

But  it  was  lagoo  who  had  carved  the  cradle  of  Hia- 

[46] 


THE  SON  OF  THE  EVENING  STAR 

watha  long  ago,  and  who  had  taught  him  how  to  make  his 
bow  and  arrows.  And  as  he  sat  at  the  feast,  old  and  ugly 
but  very  eager  to  tell  of  his  adventures,  Nokomis  said  to 
him:  "Good  lagoo,  tell  us  some  wonderful  story,  so  that 
our  feast  may  be  more  merry,"  and  lagoo  answered  like  a 
flash :  "You  shall  hear  the  most  wonderful  story  that  has 
ever  been  heard  since  men  have  lived  upon  the  earth.  You 
shall  hear  the  strange  and  marvelous  tale  of  Osseo  and  his 
father,  King  of  the  Evening  Star." 

XII 

THE  SON  OF  THE  EVENING  STAR 

the  Star  of  Evening!"  cried  lagoo;  "see  how 
it  shines  like  a  bead  of  wampum  on  the  robes  of 
the  Great  Spirit!  Gaze  on  it,  and  listen  to  the  story  of 
Osseo! 

"Long  ago,  in  the  days  when  the  heavens  were  nearer 
to  the  earth  than  they  are  now,  and  when  the  spirits  and 
gods  were  better  known  to  all  men,  there  lived  a  hunter  in 
the  Northland  who  had  ten  daughters,  young  and  beau 
tiful,  and  as  tall  as  willow-wands.  Oweenee,  the  youngest 
of  these,  was  proud  and  wayward,  but  even  fairer  than 
her  sisters.  When  the  brave  and  wealthy  warriors  came  as 
suitors,  each  of  the  ten  sisters  had  many  offers,  and  all 
except  Oweenee  were  quickly  married;  but  Oweenee 

[47] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

laughed  at  her  handsome  lovers  and  sent  them  all  away. 
Then  she  married  poor,  ugly  old  Osseo,  who  was  bowed 
down  with  age,  weak  with  coughing,  and  twisted  and 
wrinkled  like  the  roots  of  an  oak-tree.  For  she  saw  that 
the  spirit  of  Osseo  was  far  more  beautiful  than  were  the 
painted  figures  of  her  handsome  lovers. 

"All  the  suitors  whom  she  had  refused  to  marry,  and  they 
were  many,  came  and  pointed  at  her  with  jeers  and  laugh 
ter,  and  made  fun  of  her  and  of  her  husband ;  but  she  said 
to  them:  'I  care  not  for  your  feathers  and  your  wampum; 
I  am  happy  with  Osseo.' 

"It  happened  that  the  sisters  were  all  invited  to  a  great 
feast,  and  they  were  walking  together  through  the  forest, 
followed  by  old  Osseo  and  the  fair  Oweenee;  but  while 
all  the  others  chatted  gayly,  these  two  walked  in  silence. 
Osseo  often  stopped  to  gaze  at  the  Star  of  Evening,  and  at 
last  the  others  heard  him  murmur :  'Oh,  pity  me,  pity  me, 
my  Father!'  'He  is  praying  to  his  father,'  said  the  eldest 
sister.  'What  a  shame  that  the  old  man  does  not  stumble  in 
the  path  and  break  his  neck!'  and  the  others  all  laughed 
so  heartily  at  the  wicked  joke  that  the  forest  rang  with 
merriment. 

"On  their  way  through  the  thicket,  lay  a  hollow  oak  that 
had  been  uprooted  by  a  storm,  and  when  Osseo  saw  it  he 
gave  a  cry  of  anguish,  and  leaped  into  the  mighty  tree. 
He  went  in  an  old  man,  ugly  and  bent  and  hideous  with 

[48] 


THE  SON  OF  THE  EVENING  STAR 

wrinkles.  He  came  out  a  splendid  youth,  straight  as  an 
arrow,  handsome  and  very  strong.  But  Osseo  was  not 
happy  in  the  change  that  had  come  over  him.  Indeed,  he 
was  more  sorrowful  than  ever  before,  because  at  the  same 
instant  that  he  recovered  his  lost  youth,  Oweenee  was 
changed  into  a  tottering  old  woman,  wasted  and  worn  and 
ugly  as  a  witch.  And  her  nine  hard-hearted  sisters  and 
their  husbands  laughed  long  and  loud,  until  the  forest 
echoed  once  again  with  their  wicked  merriment. 

"Osseo,  however,  did  not  turn  from  Oweenee  in  her 
trouble,  but  took  her  brown  and  withered  hand,  called  her 
sweetheart  and  soothed  her  with  kind  words,  until  they 
came  to  the  lodge  in  the  forest  where  the  feast  was  being 
given.  They  sat  down  to  the  feast,  and  all  were  joyous 
except  Osseo,  who  would  taste  neither  food  nor  drink,  but 
sat  as  if  in  a  dream,  looking  first  at  the  changed  Oweenee, 
then  upward  at  the  sky.  All  at  once  he  heard  a  voice  come 
out  of  the  empty  air  and  say  to  him :  'Osseo,  my  son,  the 
spells  that  bound  you  are  now  broken,  and  the  evil  charms 
that  made  you  old  and  withered  before  your  time  have  all 
been  wished  away.  Taste  the  food  before  you,  for  it  is 
blessed  and  will  change  you  to  a  spirit.  Your  bowls  and 
your  kettles  shall  be  changed  to  silver  and  to  wampum, 
and  shine  like  scarlet  shells  and  gleam  like  the  firelight; 
and  all  the  men  and  women  but  Oweenee  shall  be  changed 
to  birds.' 

[491 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

"The  voice  Osseo  heard  was  taken  by  the  others  for  the 
voice  of  the  whippoorwill,  singing  far  off  in  the  lonely 
forest,  and  they  did  not  hear  a  word  of  what  was  said. 
But  a  sudden  tremor  ran  through  the  lodge  where  they  sat 
feasting,  and  they  felt  it  rise  in  the  air  high  up  above  the 
tree-tops  into  the  starlight.  The  wooden  dishes  were 
changed  into  scarlet  shells,  the  earthen  kettles  were  changed 
into  silver  bowls,  and  the  bark  of  the  roof  glittered  like  the 
backs  of  gorgeous  beetles. 

"Then  Osseo  saw  that  the  nine  beautiful  sisters  of  Owee- 
nee  and  their  husbands,  were  changed  into  all  sorts 
of  different  birds.  There  were  jays  and  thrushes  and  mag 
pies  and  blackbirds,  and  they  flew  about  the  lodge  and  sang 
and  twittered  in  many  different  keys.  Only  Oweenee  was 
not  changed,  but  remained  as  wrinkled  and  old  and  ugly 
as  before;  and  Osseo,  in  his  disappointment,  gave  a  cry  of 
anguish  such  as  he  had  uttered  by  the  oak  tree  when  lo 
and  behold!  all  Oweenee's  former  youth  and  loveliness 
returned  to  her.  The  old  woman's  staff  on  which  she  had 
been  leaning  became  a  glittering  silver  feather,  and  her 
tattered  dress  was  changed  into  a  snowy  robe  of  softest 
ermine. 

"The  wigwam  trembled  once  again  and  floated  through 
the  sky  until  at  last  it  alighted  on  the  Evening  Star  as 
gently  as  thistledown  drops  to  the  water,  and  the  ruler  of 

[50] 


THE  SON  OF  THE  EVENING  STAR 

the  Evening  Star,  the  father  of  Osseo,  came  forward  to 
greet  his  son. 

'  'My  son,'  he  said,  'hang  the  cage  of  birds  that  you 
bring  with  you  at  the  doorway  of  my  wigwam,  and  then  do 
you  and  Oweenee  enter,'  and  Osseo  and  Oweenee  did  as 
they  were  told,  entered  the  wigwam  and  listened  to  the 
words  of  Osseo's  father. 

1  'I  have  had  pity  on  you,  my  Osseo,'  he  began.  'I  have 
given  back  to  you  your  youth  and  beauty;  and  I  have 
changed  into  birds  the  sisters  of  Oweenee  and  their  hus 
bands,  because  they  laughed  at  you  and  could  not  see  that 
your  spirit  was  beautiful.  When  you  were  an  ugly  old 
man,  only  Oweenee  knew  your  heart.  But  you  must  take 
heed,  for  in  the  little  star  that  you  see  yonder  lives  an  evil 
spirit,  the  Wabeno;  and  it  is  he  who  has  brought  all  this 
sorrow  upon  you.  Take  care  that  you  never  stand  in  the 
light  of  that  evil  star.  Its  gleams  are  used  by  the  Wabeno 
as  his  arrows,  and  he  sits  there  hating  all  the  world  and 
darting  forth  his  poisonous  beams  of  baleful  light  to  injure 
all  who  stray  within  his  reach.' 

"For  many  years  Osseo  and  his  father  and  Oweenee 
lived  happily  together  upon  the  Evening  Star.  Oweenee 
bore  a  son  to  Osseo,  and  the  boy  had  beauty  and  courage. 
Osseo,  to  please  his  son,  made  little  bows  and  arrows  for 
him,  and  when  the  boy  had  learned  to  shoot,  Osseo  opened 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

the  door  of  the  silver  bird-cage  and  let  out  all  the  birds. 
They  darted  through  the  air,  singing  for  joy  at  their  free 
dom,  until  the  boy  bent  his  bow  and  struck  one  of  them 
with  a  fatal  arrow,  so  that  the  bird  fell  wounded  at  his 
feet.  But  wrhen  it  touched  the  ground  the  bird  underwent 
a  great  change;  and  there  lay  at  the  boy's  feet  a  beautiful 
young  woman  with  the  arrow  in  her  breast. 

"As  soon  as  her  blood  dripped  upon  the  sacred  Evening 
Star,  all  the  magical  charms  that  Osseo's  father  had  used 
to  keep  his  son  and  Oweenee  with  him  in  the  happy  dwell 
ing  far  above  the  earth  were  broken,  and  the  boy  hunter 
with  his  bow  and  arrow  felt  himself  held  by  unseen  hands, 
but  sinking  downward  through  the  blue  sky  and  the  empty 
air  until  he  rested  on  a  green  and  grassy  island  in  the  Big- 
Sea-Water.  Falling  and  fluttering  after  him  came  all  the 
bright  birds;  and  the  lodge,  with  Osseo  and  Oweenee  in  it, 
sailed  lightly  downward  and  landed  on  the  island. 

"When  the  bright  birds  touched  the  earth,  another  change 
came  over  them,  and  they  became  men  and  women  once 
again  as  they  were  before;  only  they  remained  so  small  in 
size — so  tiny,  that  they  were  called  the  Little  People,  the 
Puk-Wudjies.  And  on  summer  nights,  when  the  stars 
shone  brightly  above  them,  they  would  dance  hand  in  hand 
about  the  island,  and  sometimes  in  the  starlight  they  dance 
there  even  now." 

When  the  story  was  finished,  lagoo  looked  about  him  at 

[52] 


BLESSING  THE  CORNFIELDS 

the  assembled  guests,  and  added  very  solemnly:  "There 
are  many  great  men  at  whom  their  own  people  often  scoff 
and  jeer.  Let  these  people  take  warning  from  the  story 
of  Osseo,  so  that  they  too  may  not  be  changed  to  birds  for 
laughing  at  their  betters;"  and  the  wedding  guests  all  whis 
pered  to  each  other,  "I  wonder  if  he  means  himself  and  us." 
Then  Chibiabos  sang  another  sweet  and  tender  love-song, 
and  the  guests  all  went  away,  leaving  Hiawatha  alone  and 
happy  with  Minnehaha. 

XIII 

BLESSING  THE  CORNFIELDS 

MANY  were  the  pleasant  days  that  followed  the 
wedding  of  Minnehaha  and  Hiawatha.  All  the 
tribes  were  at  peace  with  one  another,  and  the  hunters 
roved  wherever  they  chose,  built  their  birch  canoes, 
hunted  and  fished  and  trapped  the  beaver  without  once 
hearing  the  war-cry  or  the  hiss  of  a  hostile  arrow.  The 
women  made  sugar  from  the  sap  of  the  maple-trees,  gath 
ered  the  wild  rice  and  dressed  the  skins  of  the  deer  and 
beaver,  while  all  around  the  peaceful  village  waved  green 
and  sunny  fields  of  corn. 

Once,  when  the  corn  was  being  planted  by  the  women, 
the  wise  and  thoughtful  Hiawatha  said  to  Minnehaha: 
"To-night  you  shall  bless  the  cornfields,  and  draw  around 

[53l 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

them  a  magic  circle  to  keep  out  the  mildew  and  the  insects. 
In  the  night,  when  everybody  is  asleep  and  none  can  hear 
you  or  see  you,  rise  from  your  bed,  lay  aside  your  clothes 
and  walk  in  the  darkness  around  the  fields  of  corn  that  you 
have  planted.  Do  this  and  the  fields  shall  be  more  fruit 
ful  and  the  magic  circle  of  your  footsteps  cannot  be  crossed 
by  either  worm  or  insect ;  for  the  dragon-fly  and  the  spider, 
and  the  grasshopper  and  the  caterpillar  all  will  know  that 
you  have  walked  around  the  cornfields,  and  they  will  not 
dare  to  enter." 

While  Hiawatha  spoke,  Kahgahgee,  King  of  the  Ravens, 
sat  with  his  band  of  black  robbers  in  the  tree-tops  near  at 
hand,  and  they  laughed  so  loud  at  the  words  of  Hiawatha 
that  the  tree-tops  shook  and  rattled.  "Kaw!"  shouted  the 
ravens.  "Listen  to  the  wise  man !  Hear  the  plots  of  Hia 
watha!  We  will  fly  over  the  magic  circle  and  eat  just  as 
much  corn  as  we  can  hold." 

When  night  had  fallen  dark  and  black  over  the  fields 
and  woodlands,  and  when  all  the  Indians  were  sleeping 
fast,  Minnehaha  rose  from  her  bed  of  branches,  laid  aside 
her  garments  and  walked  safely  among  the  cornfields, 
drawing  the  magic  circle  of  her  light  footsteps  closely 
around  them.  No  one  but  the  midnight  saw  her,  and  no 
one  but  the  whippoorwill  heard  the  panting  of  her  bosom, 
for  the  darkness  wrapped  its  cloak  closely  about  her  as  she 
walked.  And  the  dragon-fly  and  the  grasshopper,  the 

[54] 


BLESSING  THE  CORNFIELDS 

spider  and  the  caterpillar,  all  knew  that  they  could  not 
cross  the  magic  circle  of  Minnehaha's  footsteps. 

When  the  morning  came,  however,  Kahgahgee  gathered 
about  him  all  his  black  and  rascally  crew  of  ravens  and 
jays  and  crows  and  blackbirds,  shrieking  with  laughter, 
and  with  harsh  cries  and  raucous  clamor  they  all  left  the 
tree-tops  and  flapped  eagerly  down  upon  the  cornfields. 
"Kaw!  Kaw!"  they  shrieked,  "we  will  dig  up  the  corn  from 
the  soft  earth,  and  we  will  eat  all  we  can  hold,  in  spite  of 
Minnehaha  and  her  foolish  circle !" 

But  Hiawatha  had  overheard  the  ravens  as  they  laughed 
at  him  from  among  the  tree-tops.  He  had  risen  before  day 
break  and  had  covered  the  cornfields  with  snares,  and  at 
that  moment  he  was  hiding  in  the  woods  until  all  the  evil 
birds  should  alight  on  the  fields  and  begin  their  wicked 
feast. 

They  came  with  a  rush  of  wings  and  hungry  cries, 
settled  down  upon  the  cornfields  and  began  to  dig  and 
delve  and  scratch  in  the  earth  for  the  corn  that  had  been 
planted  there,  and  with  all  their  skill  and  cunning,  they  did 
not  see  that  anything  was  amiss  until  their  claws  were 
caught  in  Hiawatha's  snares  and  they  were  helpless. 

Then  Hiawatha  left  his  hiding-place  among  the  bushes 
and  strode  toward  the  captive  ravens,  and  his  appearance 
was  so  awful  that  the  bravest  of  them  hopped  and  shrieked 
and  flapped  their  wings  in  terror.  He  walked  among 

[55] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

them,  and  killed  them  to  the  right  and  left  in  tens  and 
twenties  without  mercy;  and  he  hung  their  dead  bodies 
on  poles,  to  serve  as  scarecrows  and  to  frighten  away  all 
other  thieves  and  robbers  from  the  sacred  fields  of  corn. 
Only  one  of  the  ravens  was  spared  by  Hiawatha  and  that 
was  Kahgahgee,  the  ruler  of  them  all.  Hiawatha  tied  him 
with  a  string  and  fastened  him  to  the  ridge-pole  of  his  wig 
wam,  saying:  "Kahgahgee,  you  are  the  cause  of  all  this 
mischief,  and  I  am  going  to  hold  you  as  a  warning  to  all 
the  ravens  left  alive.  If  they  light  upon  the  cornfields 
and  begin  again  their  wicked  thieving,  I  will  kill  you  and 
hang  your  body  on' a  pole  as  an  example."  And  Hiawatha 
left  Kahgahgee  tied  fast  to  the  ridge-pole  of  the  wigwam, 
hopping  and  tugging  angrily  at  his  string  and  croaking  in 
vain  for  his  friends  to  come  and  set  him  free. 

The  summer  passed,  and  all  the  air  became  warm  and 
soft  with  the  haze  of  early  autumn.  The  corn  had  grown 
tall  and  yellow,  and  the  ears  were  almost  bursting  from 
their  sheaths,  when  old  Nokomis  said  to  Minnehaha:  "Let 
us  gather  the  harvest  and  strip  the  ripe  ears  of  all  their 
husks  and  tassels,"  and  Minnehaha  and  Nokomis  went 
through  the  village,  calling  on  the  women  and  the  maidens 
and  the  young  men  to  come  forth  and  help  them  with  the 
husking  of  the  corn.  All  together  they  went  to  the  corn 
fields,  and  the  old  men  and  the  warriors  sat  in  the  shade  at 
the  edges  of  the  forest  and  smoked  and  looked  on  in  ap- 

[56] 


PICTURE-WRITING 

proval,  while  the  young  men  and  maidens  stripped  the 
ears  of  corn  and  laughed  and  sang  merrily  over  their  labor. 
Whenever  a  youth  or  a  maiden  found  a  crooked  ear,  they 
all  laughed  even  louder,  and  crept  about  the  cornfields  like 
weak  old  men  bent  almost  double  with  age.  But  when 
some  lucky  maiden  found  a  blood-red  ear  in  the  husking, 
they  all  cried  out :  "Ah,  Nushka !  You  shall  have  a  sweet 
heart!"  And  the  old  men  nodded  in  approval  as  they 
smoked  beneath  the  pine-trees. 

XIV 

PICTURE-WRITING 

IN  those  days,  the  Indians  had  no  way  of  writing  down 
what  they  thought,  and  could  only  tell  each  other 
their  messages  and  their  dreams  and  wisdom,  by  spoken 
words.  The  deeds  of  hunters  and  the  thoughts  of  wise  men 
were  remembered  for  a  little  while,  but  soon  were  talked 
about  less  often,  and  when  the  old  men  died  there  were 
none  left  who  could  tell  about  what  had  happened  in 
the  past.  The  grave-posts  had  no  marks  on  them,  nor  were 
the  Indians  able  to  tell  who  were  buried  in  the  graves. 
All  they  knew  was  that  some  one  of  their  own  tribe,  some 
former  wise  man  or  hunter,  or  some  beautiful  maiden  of 
other  days  lay  buried  there.  And  Hiawatha  was  much 
troubled  that  the  Indians  did  not  know  the  graves  of  their 

[57] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

own  fathers,  and  could  not  tell  the  men  who  should  come 
after  them  about  the  wonderful  things  that  had  taken  place 
long  before  they  were  born. 

Hiawatha  spent  many  days  alone  in  the  deep  forest,  try 
ing  to  invent  some  way  by  which  the  Indians  could  always 
know  what  had  happened  in  the  past,  and  thereby  tell 
secrets  to  each  other  and  send  messages  without  the  risk 
of  having  them  forgotten  by  the  messenger.  And  after  a 
great  deal  of  thought,  Hiawatha  discovered  one  of  the  finest 
things  in  all  the  wide  world — a  secret  that  has  changed  the 
lives  of  all  Indians  since  his  time. 

He  took  his  different  colored  paints,  and  began  to  draw 
strange  figures  on  the  bark  of  the  birch-tree,  and  every 
figure  had  some  meaning  that  the  red  men  would  always 
remember.  For  the  great  Manito,  God  of  all  the  Indians, 
Hiawatha  painted  the  picture  of  an  egg  with  different 
colored  points  toward  the  north  and  the  south,  the  east  and 
the  west,  to  show  that  the  Great  Spirit  was  watching  over 
all  the  world,  and  could  be  found  everywhere  at  once. 

For  the  Evil  Spirit,  Hiawatha  painted  the  picture  of  a 
great  serpent  to  show  that  the  Evil  Spirit  was  as  deadly 
and  wicked  and  treacherous  as  any  snake  that  crawled  in 
the  green  marsh  grass.  For  Life  and  Death,  Hiawatha 
drew  two  round  spots,  and  painted  one  of  them  white  and 
the  other  black.  The  white  one  was  meant  for  Life,  be 
cause  white  is  clear  and  fair  to  look  upon;  the  black  was 

[58] 


PICTURE-WRITING 

meant  for  Death,  because  black  is  hideous  and  dark.  And 
Hiawatha  painted  the  sun  and  the  moon  and  all  the  stars 
of  heaven,  and  he  painted  forests  and  mountains,  lakes  and 
rivers,  animals  and  birds.  For  the  earth  he  drew  a  straight 
line,  like  the  line  of  the  horizon,  and  for  the  sky  he  drew 
a  curved  line  like  a  bow.  He  filled  in  the  space  between 
with  white  paint  that  was  to  mean  the  white  light  of  day; 
he  painted  a  point  at  each  side,  one  for  sunrise  and 
the  other  for  sunset,  and  he  drew  a  number  of  little  stars 
to  represent  the  night.  And  Hiawatha  drew  all  sorts  of 
pictures  of  men  and  wigwams  and  bows  and  arrows  and 
canoes,  each  with  its  own  meaning,  until  he  had  drawn  dif 
ferent  figures  for  the  different  thoughts  of  men. 

He  called  the  Indians  to  come  and  see  what  he  had 
painted,  and  he  said  to  them:  "Look  and  learn  the  mean 
ing  of  these  different  figures ;  go  and  paint  upon  the  graves 
of  those  whom  you  remember,  some  mark  that  will  always 
show  who  it  is  that  lies  there  buried;"  and  the  Indians 
painted  on  the  grave-posts  of  the  graves  they  had  not  yet 
forgotten,  figures  of  bear  and  reindeer,  and  turtles,  and 
cranes,  and  beavers.  Each  one  of  them  invented  some  sign 
by  which  he  might  always  know  his  dead,  and  from  these 
signs  many  of  the  Indians  have  been  remembered  to  this 
day.  On  their  birch  canoes  the  Indians  drew  many  dif 
ferent  shapes,  and  the  brightest  of  them  all  was  the  figure 
of  Love.  It  was  painted  in  deep  scarlet,  because  scarlet  is 

[59] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

the  strongest  of  all  colors,  and  the  color  meant:  "I  am 
greater  than  all  others;"  for  the  Indians  believed  that  love 
was  mightier  than  life  or  death,  and  more  dangerous  than 
either  war  or  hunting. 

Other  figures  were  also  painted  there,  and  by  looking  at 
the  pictures  drawn  by  an  Indian  you  could  tell  who  he  was, 
and  what  family  he  came  from,  and  whether  he  was  stern 
and  cruel  or  loving  and  kind-hearted.  For  the  Indians 
were  apt  to  paint  the  things  they  thought  about  the  most. 

Many  were  the  gifts  that  Hiawatha  gave  his  people; 
but  when  he  taught  them  how  to  paint  their  thoughts,  he 
gave  them  a  better  gift  than  any  other. 

XV 

HIAWATHA'S  LAMENTATION 

WHEN  Hiawatha  lived,  there  were  many  evil  spir 
its  on  the  earth;  and  these  evil  spirits  were 
very  jealous  of  the  friendship  between  Hiawatha  and 
Chibiabos.  "If  we  can  only  get  this  Chibiabos  in  our 
power,"  they  plotted,  "we  will  kill  him,  and  when  he  is 
dead,  Hiawatha  cannot  do  so  much  good  to  all  the  tribes  of 
men;  for  Chibiabos  helps  him  like  a  brother,  and  together 
they  are  much  too  strong  for  us."  The  evil  spirits  joined 
to  destroy  both  Chibiabos  and  Hiawatha,  and  they  laid 

[60] 


HIAWATHA'S  LAMENTATION 

many  traps  and  thought  of  many  schemes  to  catch  the  two 
friends  off  their  guard. 

Hiawatha  was  so  wise  that  he  knew  of  all  this  plotting, 
and  he  often  said  to  Chibiabos:  "O  my  brother,  stay 
with  me  always,  for  together  the  evil  spirits  cannot  do  us 
any  harm."  But  Chibiabos  was  young  and  heedless  and  he 
did  not  fear  the  evil  spirits.  He  laughed  at  Hiawatha, 
and  said  to  him:  "Harm  and  evil  never  come  near  me, 
my  Hiawatha;  have  no  fear  on  my  account."  But  Hia 
watha  only  shook  his  head,  and  feared  all  the  more  because 
Chibiabos  feared  so  little. 

Once  in  the  winter  time,  when  the  Big-Sea-Water  was 
covered  with  ice  and  snow,  Chibiabos  was  hunting  a  buck 
with  antlers,  and  the  buck  ran  right  across  the  frozen  lake. 
Wild  with  excitement  of  hunting,  Chibiabos  followed  him 
and  ran  far  out  from  shore  upon  the  treacherous  ice,  where 
the  evil  spirits  were  waiting  for  him.  When  they  saw 
that  he  was  far  enough  from  land,  they  broke  the  ice  and 
Chibiabos  fell  with  a  crash  and  a  splash  into  the  freezing 
water  of  the  lake.  Even  then  he  might  have  saved  himself 
and  climbed  out  upon  the  ice  but  the  strong,  cruel  water- 
god,  the  god  of  the  Dacotahs,  wrapped  his  cold  wet  arms 
around  the  body  of  Chibiabos  and  dragged  him  down,  down 
through  the  dark  black  water  to  the  bottom.  There  the 
water-god  buried  him  beneath  the  mud  and  sand,  so  that 

[61] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

his  dead  body  might  not  rise  to  the  surface;  and  the  evil 
spirits  danced  for  joy  at  the  death  of  Chibiabos.  "We 
have  killed  him,"  they  shouted  gleefully  to  one  another; 
"we  have  killed  the  sweetest  singer  in  the  world  and  the 
dearest  friend  of  Hiawatha!" 

From  the  headlands  on  the  shore,  Hiawatha  had  seen 
Chibiabos  plunge  into  the  lake,  and  he  heard  the  wicked 
shouting  of  the  evil  spirits.  He  gave  such  a  cry  of  sorrow 
that  the  forest  trembled,  and  the  wolves  on  the  prairie 
raised  their  heads  to  listen  and  then  howled  in  answer, 
while  the  hoarse  thunder  stirred  itself  among  the  mountains 
and  awakened  all  the  echoes  to  his  cry. 

Then  Hiawatha  smeared  his  face  with  black  paint,  the 
color  of  sorrow  and  of  death;  he  covered  his  head  with  his 
robe  and  sat  for  seven  long  weeks  in  his  wigwam,  grieving 
for  the  murdered  Chibiabos.  And  the  fir-trees  sadly  waved 
their  dark  green  branches  to  and  fro  above  his  head  and 
sighed  as  mournfully  as  Hiawatha. 

Spring  came,  and  all  the  birds  and  animals,  and  even  the 
rivulets,  and  flowers  and  grasses,  looked  in  vain  for  the  dead 
Chibiabos.  The  bluebird  sang  a  song  of  sorrow  from  the 
tree-tops ;  the  robin  echoed  it  from  the  silence  of  the  thicket, 
and  the  whippoorwill  took  up  the  sad  refrain  at  night  and 
wailed  it  far  and  wide  through  all  the  woodland.  "Chibia 
bos!  Chibiabos!"  murmured  every  living  thing,  and  all  the 

[62] 


HIAWATHA'S  LAMENTATION 

echoes  sighed  in  answer  until  the  whole  world  seemed  to 
mourn  for  the  lost  singer. 

Then  the  wise  men  of  the  tribes — the  medicine-men,  the 
men  of  magic — came  to  Hiawatha  as  he  sat  in  sorrow  in 
his  hut,  and  they  walked  before  him  in  a  grave  procession 
to  drive  the  sadness  from  his  heart.  Each  of  them  carried 
a  pouch  of  healing,  made  of  beaver-skin  or  lynx  or  otter, 
and  filled  with  roots  and  herbs  of  wonderful  power  to  cure 
all  diseases  and  to  drive  the  evil  spirits  of  grief  from  the 
heart  and  from  the  mind.  To  and  fro  they  walked,  until 
Hiawatha  uncovered  his  head,  washed  the  black  paint  from 
his  face,  and  followed  the  wise  men  to  the  Sacred  Lodge 
that  they  had  built  beside  his  own  wigwam. 

There  they  gave  to  Hiawatha  a  marvelous  drink  made 
of  spearmint  and  yarrow  and  all  sorts  of  strange  and  dif 
ferent  roots,  and  when  he  had  drunk  of  this  they  began  a 
wild  and  mystic  dance,  beating  on  the  small  drums  that 
they  carried,  and  shaking  their  pouches  of  healing  in  the 
face  of  Hiawatha.  "Hi-au-ka!"  they  shouted  in  strange 
voices,  "way-hfrway!  We  can  cure  you,  Hiawatha;  we 
can  make  you  strong."  And  they  shook  their  medicine 
pouches  over  Hiawatha's  head,  and  continued  beating  on 
their  hollow  drums,  as  they  circled  wildly  around  him  again 
and  again. 

All  at  once  the  sorrow  left  Hiawatha's  heart,  as  the  ice 

[63] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

is  swept  from  a  river  in  the  springtime,  and  like  a  man 
awakening  from  evil  dreams  he  felt  that  he  was  healed,  and 
he  gazed  about  him  where  the  medicine-men  were  still 
dancing.  They  were  trying  to  summon  Chibiabos  from  his 
grave  deep  down  in  the  sandy  bottom  of  the  Big-Sea- 
Water,  for  the  water-god  had  buried  him  so  deep  that  his 
spirit  could  not  go  into  the  land  of  dead  men,  but  was  still 
in  his  drowned  body,  struggling  to  free  itself.  And  the 
magic  of  the  wise  men  was  so  strong  that  Chibiabos  rose 
body  and  all,  and  stood  on  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  listen 
ing  to  them. 

Then  the  dead  man  floated  to  the  shore,  climbed  out 
upon  the  bank  and  made  his  way  swiftly  and  silently 
through  the  forest  to  the  doorway  of  the  wigwam  where 
the  medicine-men  were  singing.  When  he  shook  the  cur 
tain  of  the  doorway  and  peered  in  upon  them  they  would 
not  let  him  enter,  but  gave  him  through  an  opening  in  the 
door  a  burning  torch  and  told  him  to  light  a  fire  in  the 
land  of  spirits,  so  that  all  who  died  might  see  it  and  find 
their  way  thither;  and  they  made  Chibiabos  ruler  in  the 
Kingdom  of  the  Dead.  He  left  the  doorway  of  the  wig 
wam  and  vanished  in  the  forest,  and  the  wise  men  watched 
the  twinkling  of  his  torch  until  it  disappeared.  They  saw 
that  the  branches  did  not  move  as  he  passed,  and  that  the 
dead  leaves  and  the  grass  did  not  even  bend  or  rustle  be 
neath  his  footsteps,  and  they  looked  at  one  another  much 

[64] 


PAU-PUK-KEEWIS 

afraid,  because  such  sights  are  not  good  for  living  men 
to  see. 

Four  days  Chibiabos  traveled  down  the  pathway  of  the 
dead,  and  for  his  food  he  ate  the  dead  man's  strawberry. 
He  saw  many  other  dead  men  struggling  under  heavy  bur 
dens  of  food  and  skins  and  wampum  that  their  friends  had 
given  them  to  use  in  the  Land  of  Spirits,  and  they  groaned 
beneath  their  burdens.  He  passed  them  all,  crossed  the 
sad,  dark  River  of  Death  upon  the  swinging  log  that  floats 
there;  and  at  last  he  came  to  the  Lake  of  Silver,  and  was 
carried  in  the  Stone  Canoe  over  the  water  to  the  Islands 
of  the  Blessed,  where  he  rules  all  ghosts  and  shadows. 

When  he  had  disappeared  in  the  dark  forest,  Hiawatha 
left  the  Sacred  Lodge  and  wandered  eastward  and  west 
ward  teaching  men  the  use  of  roots  and  herbs  and  the  cure 
of  all  disorders;  and  thus  was  first  made  known  to  the 
Indians  the  sacred  knowledge  of  caring  for  the  sick. 

XVI 

PAU-PUK-KEEWIS 

YOU  remember  how  Pau-Puk-Keewis  danced  the  Beg 
gar's  Dance  at  Hiawatha's  wedding,  and  how,  in 
his  wild  leaping  and  whirling  at  the  edges  of  the  Big- 
Sea-Water,  he  tossed  up  the  mighty  sand  dunes  of  the 
Nagow  Wudjoo.    And  you  remember  also,  how  the  war- 

[65] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

riors  all  disliked  Pau-Puk-Keewis,  and  called  him  an  idler 
and  coward,  for  they  knew  his  heart  was  bad  within  him. 
Only  the  women  cared  for  Pau-Puk-Keewis,  and  the  women 
were  deceived  by  his  handsome  face  and  his  costly  dresses. 

One  morning  Pau-Puk-Keewis  came  in  search  of  adven 
tures  to  the  village,  and  found  all  the  young  men  gathered 
in  the  wigwam  of  lagoo,  listening  to  the  wonderful  sto 
nes  that  old  lagoo  always  told  when  any  one  would  hear 
him.  He  was  telling  how  Ojeeg,  the  Summer-Maker, 
climbed  up  to  the  sky  and  made  a  hole  in  Heaven  that  let 
out  all  the  warm  and  pleasant  weather  of  the  summer 
months.  He  was  describing  how  the  Otter  tried  it  first, 
and  how  the  Beaver  and  the  Lynx  and  Badger  also  tried  it, 
all  of  them  climbing  to  the  top  of  the  highest  mountain  and 
hitting  their  heads  against  the  sky. 

''They  cracked  it  but  they  could  not  break  it,"  said 
lagoo,  "and  then  Ojeeg  the  Weasel  came  and  the  Wol 
verine  helped  him  to  make  ready  for  the  trial.  Ojeeg 
climbed  to  the  top  of  the  mountain,  and  the  Wolverine 
went  with  him.  The  Wolverine  crouched  down  like  a 
grasshopper  on  the  mountain  top,  with  his  legs  all  drawn 
up  beneath  him  like  a  squirrel  or  a  cricket,  and  he  leaped  as 
hard  as  he  was  able  at  the  sky. 

"The  first  time  he  leaped,"  said  lagoo,  "the  sky  bent 
above  him  as  the  ice  in  rivers  when  the  water  rises  be 
neath  it  in  the  springtime.  The  second  time  he  leaped,  the 

[66] 


PAU-PUK-KEEWIS 

sky  cracked  open,  and  he  could  see  the  light  of  Heaven 
shining  through.  And  the  third  time  he  leaped — crash! 
The  sky  broke  into  bits  above  him  and  he  disappeared  in 
Heaven,  followed  closely  by  the  valiant  Weasel,  who  tum 
bled  into  Heaven  after  him  and  has  been  called  'The 
Summer-Maker'  ever  since." 

"Hark  you,"  cried  Pau-Puk-Keewis,  bursting  through 
the  open  doorway  of  the  wigwam.  "I  am  tired  of  all  this 
talk,  and  I  am  tired  of  Hiawatha's  endless  wisdom.  Listen 
to  me,  and  you  shall  learn  something  more  interesting  than 
old  lagoo's  stories.  Watch,  and  I  will  teach  you  all  a 
splendid  game." 

From  his  pouch  he  drew  forth  all  the  pieces  used  in  the 
game  of  Bowl  and  Counters.  There  were  thirteen  in  all, 
and  nine  were  painted  white  on  one  side  and  red  on  the 
other;  while  four  were  made  of  brass,  one  side  polished 
and  the  other  painted  black.  On  nine  of  the  thirteen 
pieces  were  painted  pictures  of  men,  or  ducks,  or  serpents, 
and  Pau-Puk-Keewis  shook  them  all  together  in  a  wooden 
bowl  and  tossed  them  out,  explaining  that  the  score  was 
counted  great  or  little  according  to  the  way  the  pictures 
and  the  colors  fell  upon  the  ground.  Curious  eyes  stared 
at  him  as  he  shook  and  tossed  and  counted  up  the  pieces, 
until  the  Indians  were  drawn  into  the  game  one  after  one, 
and  they  sat  there  playing  for  prizes  of  weapons  and  fur 
robes  and  wampum  through  the  rest  of  the  day  and  through 

[67] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

the  night  until  the  sun  rose  once  again.  By  that  time  the 
clever,  lucky  Pau-Puk-Keewis  had  won  everything  they 
owned — deerskin  shirts,  wampum,  pipes,  ermine  robes  and 
all  sorts  of  weapons,  and  he  chuckled  to  himself. 

Then  the  crafty  Pau-Puk-Keewis  said  to  them:  "My 
wigwam  is  lonely,  and  I  want  a  companion  in  my  wander 
ings.  I  want  a  slave.  I  will  risk  all  the  wampum  and 
the  fur  robes,  everything  that  I  have  won,  against  the 
nephew  of  lagoo — that  young  man  who  is  standing  yonder. 
But  if  I  win  again,  he  shall  be  my  slave  for  life." 

"Done!"  cried  lagoo,  his  eyes  glowing  like  coals  beneath 
his  shaggy  brows,  and  he  seized  the  bowl  and  shook  it 
fiercely,  throwing  out  the  pieces  on  the  ground.  Pau-Puk- 
Keewis  counted,  took  the  bowl  and  threw  in  his  turn,  and 
his  throw  was  far  more  lucky  than  that  of  old  lagoo.  "The 
game  is  mine!"  cried  Pau-Puk-Keewis,  smiling  as  he  rose 
and  looked  about  him,  and  heaped  all  the  robes  and 
feathers  and  wampum  and  weapons  in  the  arms  of  lagoo's 
nephew,  now  a  slave. 

"Carry  them  to  my  wigwam  yonder,"  said  Pau-Puk- 
Keewis,  "and  wait  there  until  I  have  need  of  you;"  and  he 
left  the  tent,  followed  by  the  angry  glances  of  all  the  other 
players,  who  had  lost  all  their  fine  furs  and  wampum  belts 
and  even  the  pipes  they  had  been  smoking. 

Pau-Puk-Keewis  strolled  through  the  sunny  morning 
singing  to  himself,  for  his  new  wealth  made  him  very 

[68] 


PAU-PUK-KEEWIS 

happy,  and  he  soon  reached  the  farthest  wigwam  of  the 
village,  which  was  the  home  of  Hiawatha. 

Nobody  was  there.  Only  Kahgahgee,  the  raven,  tied  to 
the  ridge-pole,  screamed  and  flapped  his  wings,  watching 
Pau-Puk-Keewis  with  glaring  eyes. 

"All  are  gone,"  said  Pau-Puk-Keewis,  thinking  of  new 
mischief  as  he  spoke;  "all  are  gone,  and  they  have  left  the 
lodge  for  me  to  do  with  as  I  choose." 

He  seized  the  raven  by  the  neck  and  whirled  him  around 
in  the  air  like  a  rattle,  until  the  bird  was  strangled,  and  he 
left  Kahgahgee' s  dead  body  dangling  from  the  ridge-pole 
as  an  insult  to  Hiawatha.  Then  he  went  inside  and  threw 
everything  into  the  wildest  disorder,  piling  together  all 
the  kettles  and  bowls,  and  all  the  skins  and  buffalo-robes 
that  he  could  find  as  an  insult  to  Minnehaha  and  to  Noko- 
mis ;  and  he  ran  off  through  the  forest,  whistling  and  sing 
ing,  much  pleased  with  what  he  had  done. 

He  climbed  the  rocks  that  overlooked  the  Big-Sea-Water, 
and  rested  lazily  upon  his  back,  gazing  up  into  the  sky  and 
listening  to  the  splash  of  the  waves  on  the  beaches  far  be 
neath.  The  sea-gulls  fluttered  about  him  in  great  flocks, 
very  curious  to  know  what  he  was  doing,  and  before  they 
could  get  out  of  his  way  he  had  killed  them  by  tens  and 
twenties  and  had  thrown  the  dead  bodies  over  the  cliff 
down  to  the  beaches.  One  of  the  sea-gulls,  who  was 
perched  on  a  crag  above,  shouted  out:  "It  is  Pau-Puk- 

[69] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

Keewis,  and  he  is  killing  us  by  the  hundred.  Fly  quickly 
and  send  a  message  to  our  brother !  Hasten  and  bring  the 
news  to  Hiawatha!" 

XVII 

THE  HUNTING  OF  PAU-PUK-KEEWIS 

WHEN  Hiawatha  heard  of  the  mischief  that  Pau- 
Puk-Keewis  had  worked  among  the  gulls  he  was 
very  angry  indeed;  but  when  he  discovered  the  wrecked 
wigwam  and  the  dead  body  of  the  raven,  and  heard  how 
Pau-Puk-Keewis  had  despoiled  lagoo  and  his  friends  of 
their  robes  and  pipes  and  wampum,  he  swore  that  he  would 
kill  Pau-Puk-Keewis  with  his  own  hand. 

"The  world  is  not  so  wide  but  I  will  find  him!"  cried  out 
Hiawatha;  "the  way  is  not  so  rough  but  I  will  reach  him 
with  my  anger!"  and  with  several  hunters  Hiawatha  set 
out  upon  the  trail  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 

They  followed  it  to  the  crags  where  he  had  killed  the 
gulls,  but  by  that  time  Pau-Puk-Keewis  was  far  away 
among  the  lowlands,  and  turning  back  he  saw  his  pur 
suers  on  the  mountain  and  waved  his  arms  to  mock  them. 

Hiawatha  shouted  at  him  from  the  mountain  top :  "The 
world  is  not  so  rough  and  wide  but  I  shall  catch  you,  Pau- 
Puk-Keewis.  Hide  where  you  will,  but  I  shall  find  you 
out,"  and  Pau-Puk-Keewis  sped  forward  like  an  ante- 

[70] 


THE  HUNTING  OF  PAU-PUK-KEEWIS 

lope  for  Hiawatha's  words  had  made  him  suddenly  afraid. 

He  rushed  through  the  forest  until  he  came  to  a  little 
stream  that  had  overflowed  its  banks,  and  there  he  saw  a 
dam  made  by  the  beavers.  Pau-Puk-Keewis  stood  on  the 
dam  and  called,  and  the  King  of  Beavers,  Ahmeek,  rose 
to  the  surface  of  the  water  to  find  out  who  the  stranger 
might  be. 

"Ahmeek,  my  friend,"  said  Pau-Puk-Keewis,  "the  water 
is  very  cool  and  pleasant.  Let  me  dive  in  and  stay  with 
you  awhile!  Change  me  into  a  beaver  like  yourself,  so 
that  I  may  rest  with  you  in  your  lodge  beneath  the  water." 

"Wait  awhile,"  said  Ahmeek,  looking  at  him  cautiously. 
"I  must  ask  the  other  beavers,"  and  he  sank  beneath  the 
water  like  a  stone. 

Pau-Puk-Keewis  thought  he  could  hear  Hiawatha  and 
the  hunters  crashing  through  the  forest,  and  he  waded  out 
upon  the  dam,  calling  to  the  beavers  until  one  head  after 
another  popped  up  out  of  the  water,  and  all  the  beavers  in 
the  pond  were  looking  at  him. 

"Your  dwelling  is  very  pleasant,  my  friends,"  said  Pau- 
Puk-Keewis  in  an  entreating  voice;  "cannot  you  change  me 
also  into  a  beaver?" 

"Yes,"  said  Ahmeek,  "let  yourself  slide  down  into  the 
water  and  you  shall  become  as  we  are." 

Pau-Puk-Keewis  slid  down  into  the  water  and  his  deer 
skin  shirt  and  moccasins  and  leggings  became  black  and 

[71] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

shiny.  His  fringes  drew  together  into  a  clump,  and  be 
came  a  broad  black  tail;  his  teeth  became  sharp,  and  long 
whiskers  sprouted  out  from  his  cheeks.  He  was  changed 
into  a  beaver. 

"Make  me  large,"  he  said,  as  he  swam  about  the  pond; 
"make  me  ten  times  larger  than  the  other  beavers,"  and 
Ahmeek  said:  "Yes,  when  you  enter  our  lodge  beneath 
the  water  you  shall  be  ten  times  as  large  as  any  one  of  us." 

They  sank  down  through  the  water,  and  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
saw  great  stores  of  food  upon  the  bottom.  They  entered 
the  lodge  and  came  up  inside  of  it  above  the  surface  of  the 
water,  and  the  lodge  was  divided  into  large  rooms,  with 
ledges  on  which  the  beavers  slept.  There  they  made  Pau- 
Puk-Keewis  ten  times  larger  than  any  other  beaver,  and 
they  said  to  him :  "Thenceforth  you  shall  rule  over  all  the 
rest  of  us  and  be  our  king." 

But  Pau-Puk-Keewis  had  not  been  sitting  long  upon  the 
throne  of  the  beavers,  when  he  heard  the  voice  of  the  beaver 
watchman  call  out  from  among  the  water-lilies:  "Hia 
watha,  Hiawatha!"  There  was  a  shout  and  a  noise  of 
rending  branches,  and  the  water  sucked  out  of  the  beavers' 
lodge  and  left  it  high  and  dry;  their  dam  was  broken.  The 
hunters  jumped  on  the  roof  of  the  lodge  and  broke  a  great 
hole  in  it,  through  which  the  sunlight  streamed  as  the 
beavers  scuttled  away  through  their  doorway  to  seek  safety 
in  deeper  water.  But  Pau-Puk-Keewis  was  so  big,  and  so 

[72] 


THE  HUNTING  OF  PAU-PUK-KEEWIS 

puffed  up  with  heavy  feeding  and  the  pride  of  being  a  king, 
that  he  could  not  crawl  through  the  doorway  with  the 
others,  but  was  helpless  before  the  hunters. 

Hiawatha  looked  through  the  roof  and  cried:  "Ah, 
Pau-Puk-Keewis,  I  know  you  in  spite  of  your  disguise.  I 
said  that  you  could  not  escape  me,"  and  Hiawatha  and  his 
hunters  beat  Pau-Puk-Keewis  with  their  heavy  clubs  until 
the  beaver's  skull  was  broken  into  pieces 

Six  tall  hunters  bore  the  body  of  the  beaver  homeward, 
and  it  was  so  heavy  that  they  had  to  carry  it  slung  from 
poles  and  branches  that  rested  on  their  shoulders.  But 
within  the  dead  body  Pau-Puk-Keewis  still  lived,  and 
thought  and  felt  exactly  as  a  man;  and  at  last,  with  great 
effort  he  gathered  himself  together,  left  the  beaver's  body 
and,  assuming  once  more  his  own  form,  he  vanished  in  the 
forest. 

Hiawatha  saw  the  figure  as  it  stole  away  amid  the  shad 
ows  of  the  pine-trees,  and  with  a  shout  he  leaped  to  his  feet 
and  gave  chase  with  all  his  hunters,  who  followed  the  flying 
Pau-Puk-Keewis  as  the  rain  follows  the  wind.  The  hunted 
man,  all  breathless  and  worn  out,  came  to  a  large  lake  in 
the  middle  of  the  forest,  and  there  he  saw  the  wild  geese 
that  we  call  the  brant,  swimming  and  diving  among  the 
water-lilies  and  enjoying  themselves  upon  the  water. 

"O  my  brothers,"  called  Pau-Puk-Keewis,  "change  me 
to  a  brant  with  shining  feathers  and  two  strong  wings  to 

[73] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

carry  me  wherever  I  will  go,  and  make  me  ten  times  larger 
than  any  of  you!" 

At  once  they  changed  him  into  a  huge  brant,  ten  times 
larger  than  the  others,  and  with  loud  cries  and  a  clamor  of 
wings  they  rose  in  the  air  and  flew  high  up  into  the  sun 
light.  As  they  flew  they  said  to  Pau-Puk-Keewis :  "Take 
care  that  you  do  not  look  downward  as  you  fly,  or  something 
strange  and  terrible  will  happen  to  you." 

But  suddenly  they  heard  a  sound  of  shouting  far  be 
neath  them,  and  Pau-Puk-Keewis,  who  recognized  the  voice 
of  lagoo  and  the  tones  of  Hiawatha,  forgot  the  warning 
about  looking  downward,  and  drew  in  his  long  black  neck 
to  gaze  upon  the  distant  village.  The  swift  wind  that  was 
blowing  behind  him  caught  his  mighty  tail-feathers,  tipped 
him  over,  and  Pau-Puk-Keewis,  struggling  in  vain  to  get 
his  balance,  fell  through  the  clear  air  like  a  heavy  stone. 
He  heard  the  shouting  of  the  people  grow  louder  and 
louder;  he  saw  the  brant  become  little  specks  in  the  air 
above  him,  and  plunging  downward  the  great  goose  struck 
the  ground  with  a  heavy,  sullen  thud  and  lay  there  dead. 

But  Pau-Puk-Keewis  still  lived  in  the  crushed  body  of 
the  giant  bird,  and  he  swiftly  took  his  own  form  again  and 
rushed  along  the  shore  of  the  Big-Sea-Water,  with  Hia 
watha  close  upon  his  heels.  And  Hiawatha  shouted  at  him 
as  they  ran :  "The  world  is  not  so  rough  and  wide  but  I 
shall  catch  you,  Pau-Puk-Keewis.  Hide  where  you  will, 

[74] 


THE  HUNTING  OF  PAU-PUK-KEEWIS 

but  I  shall  reach  you  with  my  anger !"  and  he  was  so  close  to 
Pau-Puk-Keewis  that  he  shot  out  his  right  hand  to  seize 
him  by  the  shoulder.  Pau-Puk-Keewis  spun  around  in  a 
circle,  whirled  the  dust  into  the  air  and  leaped  into  a  hollow 
oak  tree,  where  he  changed  himself  into  a  serpent  and  came 
gliding  out  among  the  roots. 

Hiawatha  broke  the  tree  to  pieces  with  a  blow  of  his 
magic  mittens;  but  there  was  no  Pau-Puk-Keewis  inside  of 
it,  and  Hiawatha  saw  him  once  again  in  his  own  form,  run 
ning  like  the  wind  along  the  beach. 

They  ran  until  they  came  to  the  painted  sand-stone  rocks 
where  the  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain  has  his  home,  and  the 
Old  Man  opened  the  doorway  of  the  rocks  and  gave  Pau- 
Puk-Keewis  a  hiding-place  in  the  gloomy  caverns  under 
neath  the  mountains,  shutting  the  rock  doorway  with  a 
heavy  crash  as  Hiawatha  threw  himself  upon  it.  With 
his  magic  mittens  Hiawatha  knocked  great  holes  in  the 
rocks,  crying  out  in  tones  of  thunder :  "Open !  Open !  I 
am  Hiawatha !"  But  the  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain  did  not 
answer. 

Then  Hiawatha  raised  his  hands  to  the  heavens  and  im 
plored  the  lightning  and  the  thunder  to  come  to  his  aid  and 
break  the  rocks  of  sand-stone  into  fragments,  and  the  light 
ning  and  the  thunder  came  snarling  and  rumbling  over  the 
Big-Sea-Water  at  the  call  of  Hiawatha.  Together  Hia 
watha  and  the  lightning  split  the  rock  doorway  into  frag- 

[751 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

ments,  and  the  thunder  boomed  among  the  caverns,  shout 
ing:  "Where  is  Pau-Puk-Keewis!" 

Pau-Puk-Keewis  lay  dead  among  the  caves  of  sand 
stone,  killed  by  Hiawatha  and  the  lightning  and  thun 
der.  This  time  he  was  dead  indeed,  crushed  by  the  rocks 
that  had  fallen  upon  him,  and  killed  in  his  own  form  so  he 
might  never  rise  again. 

Hiawatha  took  the  ghost  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis  and 
changed  it  into  a  great  eagle  that  wheels  and  circles  in  the 
air  to  this  day,  screaming  from  the  mountain  peaks  and  glid 
ing  in  great  slants  over  deep  and  empty  valleys.  In  win 
ter,  when  the  wind  whirled  the  snow  in  drifts  and  eddies 
around  the  wigwams,  the  Indians  would  say  to  one  another : 
"There  is  Pau-Puk-Keewis,  come  from  the  mountains  to 
dance  once  more  among  the  villages,"  and  when  we  see 
great  hills  of  sifted  snow,  heaped  high  and  white  by  winter 
wind,  we  may  think  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis  and  his  dance 
among  the  sand  dunes. 

XVIII 

THE  DEATH  OF  KWASIND 

THE  name  and  fame  of  Kwasind,  the  strong  man,  had 
spread  among  all  tribes  of  Indians,  and  in  all  the 
world   there   was   nobody   who   dared   to   wrestle   or   to 
strive  with  this  mighty  friend  of  Hiawatha.    But  the  lit- 

[76] 


THE  DEATH  OF  KWASIND 

tie  pigmy  people,  the  mischievous  Puk-Wudjies,  plotted 
against  Kwasind,  for  they  were  very  much  afraid  of  him, 
and  thought  he  would  destroy  them. 

"If  this  great  fellow  goes  on  breaking  whatever  he 
touches,  tearing  things  to  pieces  and  filling  the  whole  world 
with  wonder  at  his  deeds,  what  will  happen  to  us4?"  cried 
the  Little  People;  "what  will  become  of  the  Puk-Wudjies? 
He  will  step  on  us  as  if  we  were  mushrooms ;  he  will  drive 
us  into  the  water,  and  give  our  bodies  to  the  wicked  Nee- 
ba-naw-baigs  to  be  eaten."  And  all  the  Little  People 
plotted  to  murder  the  cruel  and  wicked,  dangerous,  heart 
less  Kwasind. 

There  was  one  secret  about  Kwasind  that  nobody  on 
earth  knew,  except  himself  and  the  clever  Little  People. 
All  his  strength  and  all  his  weakness  came  from  the  crown 
of  his  head.  Nowhere  but  on  the  crown  of  his  head  could 
any  weapon  do  him  harm,  and  even  there  nothing  would 
hurt  him  except  the  blue  seed-cone  that  grows  upon  the 
fir-tree.  The  Little  People  had  discovered  this  by  their 
great  skill  in  magic,  and  they  gathered  together  the  blue 
cones  of  the  fir-tree  and  piled  them  in  great  heaps  upon  the 
red  rock  ledges  that  overhung  the  river  Taquamenaw. 
There  they  sat  and  waited  until  Kwasind  should  pass  by  in 
his  canoe. 

It  was  a  hot  summer  afternoon  when  Kwasind,  the  strong 
man,  in  his  birch  canoe  came  floating  slowly  down  the  Ta- 

[771 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

quamenaw.  The  air  was  very  still  and  very  warm;  the 
insects  buzzed  and  hummed  above  the  silent  water,  and  the 
locust  sang  from  the  dry,  sweet-smelling  bushes  on  the 
shore. 

In  Kwasind's  ears  there  was  a  drowsy  murmur,  and  he 
felt  the  spirits  of  sleep  beat  upon  his  forehead  with  their 
soft  little  war-clubs.  At  the  first  blow  his  head  nodded 
with  slumber;  at  the  second  blow  his  paddle  trailed  motion 
less  in  the  water,  and  at  the  third  his  eyes  closed  and  he 
went  fast  asleep,  sitting  bolt  upright  in  his  canoe.  The 
warm  air  quivered  on  the  water,  the  midges  and  the  gnats 
sang  in  tiny  voices,  and  the  locust  once  more  struck  up  his 
shrill  tune  from  the  river  bank,  when  the  sentinels  of  the 
Little  People  went  scampering  down  the  beach,  calling  out 
shrilly  that  Kwasind  was  sound  asleep  in  his  canoe  and 
drifting  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  fatal  red  rocks  that  over 
hung  the  river.  And  all  the  Little  People  climbed  the 
rocks  and  peered  down  upon  the  water,  waiting  until  Kwa 
sind  should  pass  beneath. 

At  last  the  canoe  swung  sideways  around  a  bend  in  the 
river  and  came  drifting  down  the  slow-moving  current  as 
lightly  as  an  alder-leaf,  and  the  Little  People  moved  the 
fir-cones  nearer  to  the  edge  and  crouched  there  waiting. 

"Death  to  Kwasind!"  they  shouted  in  little  voices  as  the 
canoe  glided  underneath  the  rocks,  "Death  to  Kwasind!" 

[78] 


THE  DEATH  OF  KWASIND 

and  they  rained  down  showers  of  blue  fir-cones  right  on  the 
defenseless  head  of  the  sleeping  giant. 

As  a  great  boulder  is  tipped  into  a  stream,  Kwasind 
tottered  sideways  from  his  canoe,  struck  the  water  with  a 
sullen  plunge  that  tossed  the  spray  high  in  the  air,  and  the 
waters  closed  above  him  with  a  mighty  sob.  Bottom  up 
ward  his  canoe  drifted  down  the  river,  and  nothing  was 
seen  or  heard  of  Kwasind  from  that  day  to  this.  But  his 
memory  lived  long  among  the  Indians,  who  would  tell  their 
children  of  his  great  feats  of  strength,  and  show  to  them 
the  boulder  that  Kwasind  had  pitched  into  the  swift 
Pauwating  River  when  he  was  little  more  than  a  boy. 

When  the  gales  of  winter  tossed  the  pine-trees  and 
roared  among  the  branches  until  they  groaned  and  split 
with  a  terrible  noise  of  rending  wood,  the  Indians  would 
say  to  one  another,  as  they  sat  in  their  warm  wigwams  and 
listened  to  the  wind  shake  the  forest  to  its  roots:  "There 
goes  Kwasind,  gathering  his  firewood!"  and  in  the  country 
where  he  lived  near  the  Big-Sea-Water  there  are  still  many 
marks  of  his  great  strength  that  will  show,  to  any  who  care 
to  see,  what  a  mighty  man  this  Kwasind  was. 


[79] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

XIX 

THE  GHOSTS 

THE  vulture  never  drops  from  the  heavens  to  seize 
his  prey  upon  the  desert  but  some  other  vulture 
views  his  plunge  and  follows  swiftly.  Other  vultures 
see  the  second,  and  in  a  few  minutes  their  victim  finds 
a  row  of  them  before  him  and  the  air  dark  with  their 
wings. 

Just  so  do  troubles  come  upon  human  beings,  not  one  at 
a  time  but  together,  until  the  unhappy  man  or  woman  finds 
the  air  as  black  as  midnight  with  their  shadows,  and  in  this 
way  did  troubles  pursue  the  unfortunate  Hiawatha. 
First  Chibiabos  died — murdered  by  the  evil  spirits.  Then 
Kwasind  was  killed  as  he  drifted  down  the  stream  asleep 
in  his  canoe ;  and  then  in  the  dark  winter,  when  the  ice  had 
bound  the  rivers  and  the  trees  were  naked  in  the  bitter  air, 
another  sorrow  came  upon  Hiawatha.  But  before  it  came 
he  had  a  strange  adventure,  and  from  this  he  knew  that  he 
would  be  forced  to  undergo  some  mighty  trial. 

One  black,  wintry  evening  after  the  sun  had  set,  Noko- 
mis  and  Minnehaha  were  sitting  together  in  their  wigwam 
waiting  for  Hiawatha  to  return  from  the  hunt,  when  they 
heard  light  and  measured  footsteps  on  the  snow,  and  the 
curtain  that  hung  in  the  doorway  of  their  lodge  was  slowly 

[80] 


THE  GHOSTS 

lifted.  Two  shadowy  figures  entered — two  women,  who 
seemed  strangers  in  the  village ;  and,  without  a  word,  they 
took  their  seats  in  the  darkest  corner  of  the  wigwam  and 
crouched  there  silently  and  sadly,  shivering  with  cold. 
Their  faces  were  very  white,  their  clothes  were  thin  and 
torn,  and  they  would  not  answer  anything  that  Nokomis  or 
Minnehaha  said  to  them. 

Was  it  the  wind  blowing  down  the  smoke-flue,  or  was  it 
the  hooting  of  the  owl  that  made  both  Minnehaha  and 
Nokomis  think  that  they  heard  a  voice  come  out  of  the 
darkness  and  say  to  them:  "These  are  dead  people  that  sit 
before  you  and  share  your  fire !  They  are  ghosts  from  the 
Land  of  the  Hereafter,  who  have  come  to  haunt  you!"  At 
all  events  they  thought  that  such  a  voice  cried  out  to  them, 
and  they  were  very  much  afraid  when  Hiawatha  entered, 
fresh  from  hunting,  and  laid  the  red  deer  he  had  been  carry 
ing  at  the  feet  of  Minnehaha. 

Never  before  did  Hiawatha  appear  so  handsome,  and 
Minnehaha  thought  him  even  nobler  than  when  he  came  to 
woo  her  by  the  waterfall  in  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs. 

Turning  Hiawatha  saw  the  two  strange  guests  who  had 
not  said  a  word  when  he  had  entered,  but  crouched  silently 
in  the  darkest  corner  of  the  wigwam,  with  their  hoods 
drawn  over  their  white  faces.  Only  their  eyes  gleamed 
like  dull  coals  as  they  gazed  upon  the  firelight.  But  Hia- 

[81] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

watha  did  not  ask  a  single  question,  although  he  wondered 
greatly,  and  he  set  about  preparing  the  deer  for  their  even 
ing  meal. 

When  the  meat  was  ready,  the  two  guests,  still  without 
saying  a  word,  sprang  like  wolves  from  their  corners,  seized 
upon  the  choicest  parts,  the  white  fat  that  Hiawatha 
had  saved  for  Minnehaha,  and  retreated  with  their  por 
tions  back  to  the  shadow  of  their  corner.  And  although 
Hiawatha  and  Minnehaha  and  Nokomis  were  amazed 
by  the  strange  actions  of  their  guests,  they  did  not  show 
it  by  word  or  look,  but  acted  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
Only  Minnehaha  found  time  to  whisper  to  Hiawatha: 
"They  are  famished;  let  them  eat  of  what  they  will." 

Many  days  passed,  and  the  two  strange  women  still  sat 
cowering  in  their  corner  of  the  wigwam ;  but  at  night,  when 
everybody  slept,  they  went  out  into  the  gloomy  forest  and 
brought  back  wood  and  pine-cones  for  the  fire.  When 
ever  Hiawatha  returned  from  hunting  or  fishing,  and  the 
evening  meal  had  been  prepared,  they  would  leap  from 
their  dark  corner,  seize  the  very  choicest  portions  that  had 
been  set  aside  for  Minnehaha,  and  without  any  question 
being  asked  them,  or  any  blame  for  their  strange  conduct, 
they  would  flit  back  into  the  darkest  shadow  and  devour 
their  food  like  hungry  wolves. 

Never  once  did  Nokomis  or  Minnehaha  or  Hiawatha 
reprove  them  by  a  single  word  or  look,  preferring  to  endure 

[82] 


THE  GHOSTS 

the  insult  rather  than  to  break  in  any  way  the  law  of  hospi 
tality  and  the  sacred  custom  of  free-giving;  and  through 
it  all  the  pale,  sad  women  never  said  a  word. 

One  night,  however,  Hiawatha  lay  awake,  watching  the 
embers  of  the  fire,  when  he  heard  loud  groans  and  sobbing, 
and  saw  the  two  strange  guests  sitting  bolt  upright  on 
their  couches,  weeping  bitterly.  And  Hiawatha  asked 
them:  "O  my  guests,  why  is  it  that  you  are  so  unhappy 
and  weep  together  in  the  middle  of  the  night  ^  Has  old 
Nokomis  or  Minnehaha  wronged  you  in  any  way  or  failed 
to  treat  you  with  proper  courtesy*?" 

The  two  women  left  off  weeping,  and  answered  in  low 
and  gentle  voices :  "Hiawatha,  we  are  spirits.  We  are  the 
souls  of  those  who  once  lived  here  on  earth,  and  we  have 
come  from  the  kingdom  of  Chibiabos  to  warn  you. 

''Every  cry  of  sorrow  for  the  dead  is  heard  in  the  Land 
of  Spirits,  and  calls  back  those  of  us  for  whom  you  mourn. 
We  are  much  saddened  by  this  useless  sorrow,  and  we  have 
come  from  the  Blessed  Islands  to  ask  you  to  tell  all  your 
people  what  we  say.  Do  not  vex  our  ears  with  weeping, 
and  do  not  lay  upon  our  graves  so  many  robes,  and  kettles, 
and  wampum-belts,  for  the  spirits  find  these  a  heavy  bur 
den.  Only  give  us  food  to  carry  with  us  on  our  journey, 
and  see  that  a  fire  is  lighted  for  us  on  the  four  nights  fol 
lowing  our  death.  For  the  journey  to  the  Land  of  Spirits 
takes  four  days  and  four  nights,  and  the  cheerful  firelight 

[83] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

saves  us  from  groping  in  the  darkness.  Now  farewell, 
Hiawatha.  We  have  put  you  to  a  great  trial  and  have 
found  you  brave  and  noble.  Do  not  fail  in  the  greater  trial 
and  the  harder  struggle  that  you  will  shortly  have  to 
suffer." 

Their  voices  died  away,  and  sudden  darkness  filled  the 
wigwam.  Hiawatha  heard  the  rustle  of  their  garments  as 
they  passed  him,  saw  a  gleam  of  starlight  as  they  lifted  the 
curtain  from  the  doorway;  and  when  he  rekindled  the  fire 
he  found  that  the  pale,  sad  women,  his  strange  guests,  had 
disappeared. 

'  '.         '  /  ':  XX 

THE  FAMINE 

OH,  the  cruel  and  bitter  winter  that  followed !  The 
ice  on  the  rivers  and  lakes  became  thicker  and 
harder  than  ever  before;  the  snow  on  the  fields  and  in 
the  forests  was  so  deep  that  the  Indians  could  hardly 
force  their  way  out  of  their  buried  wigwams.  No  game 
ran  through  the  frozen  thickets,  no  birds  flew  among  the 
trees.  In  the  level  snow  the  starving  hunters  could  not 
find  a  single  track  of  deer  or  rabbit,  and  the  corn  in  the 
village  became  less  and  less  until  it  was  all  gone.  Then 
the  children  began  to  cry  with  hunger,  the  women  went 
about  with  faces  pinched  and  drawn,  and  the  men 

[84] 


THE  FAMINE 

drew  their  belts  tighter  day  by  day.  At  night  the  stars 
in  the  heavens  seemed  to  glare  like  the  eyes  of  famished 
wolves,  and  the  cold  wind  moaned  among  the  trees  as  if 
the  very  air  were  suffering  from  want.  It  was  an  evil 
time. 

When  the  famine  was  at  its  worst,  two  more  strange 
guests  came  to  the  wigwam  of  Hiawatha;  nor  did  they 
linger  at  the  doorway  and  wait  to  be  invited  in.  They 
entered  without  a  word,  and  with  sunken  eyes  they  gazed 
at  Minnehaha,  and  one  of  them  said  in  a  hollow  voice: 
''Look  on  me!  My  name  is  Famine,"  and  the  other  one 
cried  out:  "I  am  Fever!" 

The  lovely  Minnehaha  shivered  when  she  saw  them,  and 
a  great  chill  came  over  her.  She  lay  down  on  her  bed  and 
hid  her  face,  and  as  the  wicked  guests  continued  to  gaze 
she  felt  first  burning  heat,  then  icy  coldness  dart  like 
arrows  through  her  body.  Hiawatha  rushed  into  the  for 
est  to  find  some  food  for  Minnehaha  and  to  drive  away  the 
awful  visitors;  but  the  forest  was  bleak  and  empty,  and 
there  was  no  food  to  be  had.  "Ah  Great  Manito!"  cried 
out  Hiawatha,  "give  me  food  for  my  dying  Minnehaha, 
before  the  Fever  and  Famine  tear  her  from  me  forever!" 
But  the  Great  Manito  did  not  answer,  and  the  silent  forest 
only  murmured  dully,  echoing  the  words  of  Hiawatha. 
With  his  bow  and  arrows  he  strode  for  miles  through  the 
deserted  woods  where  he  had  once  led  his  young  bride 

[85] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

homeward  from  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs.  But  now  no 
animals  peeped  at  him  from  amid  the  tree  trunks,  and  there 
was  no  cheerful  fluttering  and  singing  from  the  branches; 
everything  was  deathly  silent,  muffled  in  a  mighty  cloak 
of  snow. 

While  he  was  searching  in  vain  for  food,  the  two  dark 
figures  in  the  wigwam  drew  closer  and  closer  to  Minnehaha, 
until  they  crouched  at  either  side  of  her  bed  of  branches, 
and  one  of  them  said  in  hollow  tones :  "My  name  is  Fam 
ine,"  and  the  other  cried  out:  "I  am  Fever!"  and  they 
leaned  over  the  bed  and  fixed  their  sunken  eyes  on  Minne 
haha,  and  Nokomis  could  not  frighten  them  away. 

"Hark!"  said  Minnehaha  as  the  Fever  gazed  upon  her, 
"I  hear  a  rushing  and  a  roaring.  I  hear  the  falls  of  Minne 
haha  calling  to  me  from  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs !" 

"No,  my  child,"  said  Nokomis,  "it  is  nothing  but  the 
wind  of  night  that  blows  amid  the  pine  trees." 

"Look!"  said  Minnehaha,  as  the  Fever  drew  still  closer 
to  her  bed.  "I  see  my  father  standing  in  his  doorway.  I 
see  him  beckoning  to  me  from  his  wigwam!" 

"Ah  no,  my  child,"  said  Nokomis  sadly;  "it  is  nothing 
but  the  smoke  of  our  fire  curling  upward  to  the  smoke-flue." 

"Oh,"  said  Minnehaha,  "I  see  the  eyes  of  Death  glaring 
at  me  in  the  darkness !  I  feel  his  icy  fingers  clasping  mine ! 
Hiawatha!  Hiawatha!" 

The  wretched  Hiawatha,  miles  away  in  the  dark  forest, 

[86] 


\ 


"SEVEN  LONG  DAYS  AND  NIGHTS  HE  SAT  THERE" — Page  293 


THE  FAMINE 

heard  Minnehaha  cry  to  him  and  he  hurried  homeward 
with  a  sinking  heart,  but  before  he  reached  his  wigwam  he 
heard  the  voice  of  Nokomis  wailing  through  the  night. 
What  a  sight  met  his  eyes  as  he  burst  into  his  dreary  lodge ! 
Nokomis  was  rocking  sadly  to  and  fro,  moaning  and  weep 
ing;  and  Minnehaha  lay,  cold  and  dead,  upon  her  bed  of 
branches ! 

Hiawatha  gave  such  a  cry  of  sorrow  that  the  forest  shud 
dered  and  groaned,  and  even  the  stars  in  heaven  trembled. 
Then  he  sat  down  at  the  feet  of  Minnehaha,  and  covered 
his  face  with  both  his  hands.  Seven  days  and  nights  he  sat 
there  without  moving  or  speaking,  and  he  did  not  know 
whether  it  was  night  or  day. 

At  last  he  rose  and  wrapped  Minnehaha  in  her  softest 
robes  of  ermine,  and  they  made  a  grave  for  her  in  the  snow 
beneath  the  hemlock  trees.  Four  nights  they  kindled  a 
fire  on  her  grave,  so  that  her  soul  might  have  cheerful 
light  upon  its  journey  to  the  Blessed  Islands,  and  Hiawatha 
watched  from  the  doorway  of  his  wigwam  to  see  that  the 
fire  was  burning  brightly  so  she  might  never  be  left  in 
darkness,  and  he  said:  "Farewell,  my  Minnehaha!  My 
heart  is  buried  with  you,  and  before  long  my  task  here  will 
be  finished  and  I  will  join  you  in  the  Blessed  Islands. 
Soon  I  shall  follow  in  your  footsteps  to  the  Land  of  Here 
after!" 


[87] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

XXI 

THE  WHITE  MAN'S  FOOT 

IN  a  lodge  built  close  beside  a  frozen  river  sat  an  old 
man,  whose  hair  was  whiter  than  the  whitest  snow, 
and  he  shook  and  trembled  as  he  sat  there,  hearing  noth 
ing  but  the  gale  that  raged  outside  and  seeing  nothing 
but  the  flakes  of  snow  that  leaped  and  whirled  about  his 
chilly  wigwam.  All  the  coals  of  his  fire  were  covered  with 
white  ashes  and  the  fire  itself  was  dying  away  unheeded, 
when  a  bright  youth  with  red  blood  in  his  cheeks  walked 
lightly  through  the  open  doorway.  On  his  head  was  a 
crown  of  fresh  and  sweet-smelling  grasses;  his  lips  were 
curved  in  a  beautiful  smile,  and  he  carried  in  his  hand  a 
bunch  of  flowers  that  filled  the  lodge  with  the  fragrance  of 
the  wildwood. 

"Ah,  my  son,"  said  the  old  man,  "it  does  my  old  eyes 
good  to  gaze  upon  you!  Take  a  seat  beside  my  fire,  and 
we  will  pass  the  night  together !  Tell  me  of  your  travels 
and  your  strange  adventures,  and  let  me  tell  you  of  all  the 
wonderful  deeds  that  I  have  done." 

The  old  man  drew  a  peace-pipe  from  his  pouch,  filled  it 
with  willow-bark  and  handed  it  to  the  beautiful  young 
stranger,  who  smoked  in  silence  while  he  listened  to  the  old 
man's  words. 

"When  I  blow  my  breath  about  me,"  said  the  old  man, 

[88] 


THE  WHITE  MAN'S  FOOT 

"the  water  becomes  as  hard  as  stone  and  the  rivers  cannot 
move." 

"When  I  breathe  upon  the  meadows  and  the  wood 
lands,"  answered  the  young  stranger  with  a  sunny  smile, 
"the  flowers  rise  like  magic,  and  the  rivers,  with  a  song,  go 
rushing  on  again." 

"When  I  shake  my  long  white  hair,"  said  the  old  man 
scowling,  "the  land  is  buried  with  snow  and  the  leaves  all 
fade  away  and  fall  to  earth.  When  I  raise  my  voice  the 
ground  becomes  like  flint,  the  wild  fowl  fly  away  and  the 
wild  beasts  of  the  forest  hide  for  fear." 

"When  I  shake  my  flowing  ringlets,"  said  the  young 
man  with  a  light  laugh,  "the  warm  rain  falls  on  the  hills 
and  fields,  and  the  wild  geese  and  the  heron  come  back  to 
the  marshes.  Homeward  flies  the  swallow,  and  the  robin 
and  the  bluebird  sing  for  joy.  Wherever  I  go  the  wood 
lands  ring  with  music,  and  the  meadows  become  blue  with 
violets." 

While  they  were  speaking,  the  great  sun  leaped  up  above 
the  horizon  and  shot  his  beams  of  orange  gold  through  the 
doorway  of  the  wigwam.  The  air  became  warm  and  pleas 
ant,  and  in  the  light  of  morning  the  young  stranger  saw 
the  icy  face  of  the  old  man  and  knew  that  he  had  spent  the 
night  with  Peboan,  the  winter.  From  the  old  man's  eyes 
the  tears  were  running  in  two  streams,  the  water  was  drip 
ping  from  his  hair,  and  his  body  shrank  until  it  vanished 

[89] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

into  the  ground.  And  on  the  hearth-stone  where  the  old 
man's  fire  had  been  smoking,  blossomed  the  earliest  flower 
of  springtime. 

Thus  did  the  young  stranger,  Spring,  come  back  again 
and  drive  away  the  icy  chill  of  that  dreadful  winter  of 
famine  and  death.  To  the  northward  passed  the  wild 
swans,  calling  to  one  another,  and  the  bluebirds  and  the 
pigeons  and  the  robins  sang  in  the  thicket,  until  the  griev 
ing  Hiawatha  heard  their  voices  and  went  forth  from 
his  gloomy  wigwam  to  gaze  up  into  the  warm,  blue  sky. 

From  his  wanderings  in  the  east  returned  lagoo,  the 
great  boaster,  full  of  stories  more  wonderful  than  any  that 
he  had  ever  told,  and  the  people  laughed  as  they  listened 
to  him,  saying:  "Cold  and  famine  have  not  harmed  lagoo; 
he  is  just  the  same  as  ever,  and  has  seen  more  wonders  in  his 
travels  than  the  Great  Manito  himself." 

"I  have  seen  a  water  greater  than  the  Big-Sea-Water," 
cried  lagoo,  "much  greater!  And  over  it  came  a  huge 
canoe,  with  large  white  wings  that  carried  it  along!" 

"It  can't  be  true!"  cried  all  the  Indians,  laughing  at 
lagoo;  "we  don't  believe  one  word  of  what  you  say." 

"From  the  canoe,"  went  on  lagoo,  "came  thunder  and 
lightning,  and  a  hundred  warriors  landed  on  the  beach. 
Their  faces  were  painted  white,  and  there  was  hair  upon 
their  chins." 

"What  lies  you  tell  us !"  shouted  all  the  people.  "Do  not 

[90] 


THE  WHITE  MAN'S  FOOT 

think  that  we  believe  you!"  Hiawatha  only  did  not 
join  in  the  roar  of  laughter  that  lagoo's  words  called 
forth  from  all  the  men  and  women  and  children  who  were 
listening. 

"What  he  tells  is  true,"  said  Hiawatha,  "I  have  seen  it 
all  in  a  dream.  I  have  seen  the  great  canoe  of  the  white- 
faced  people  come  sailing  from  the  Land  of  Sunrise.  I 
have  seen  these  people  moving  swiftly  westward  under  the 
guidance  of  the  Great  Manito,  until  the  fires  of  their 
wigwams  smoked  in  all  the  valleys,  while  their  canoes 
rushed  over  all  the  lakes  and  rivers.  Let  us  welcome 
them,"  said  Hiawatha;  "let  us  give  them  of  our  best  and 
call  them  brothers,  for  the  Great  Manito  has  sent  them  and 
they  come  to  do  his  bidding. 

"Then  I  had  another  vision,"  Hiawatha  went  on  sadly. 
"I  saw  our  people  fighting  with  one  another,  forgetful  of 
the  warning  of  the  Great  Manito.  And  the  forests  where 
we  hunted,  and  the  rivers  where  we  fished  and  trapped  the 
beaver,  knew  our  faces  and  our  voices  no  more;  for  our 
people  were  scattered  like  the  autumn  leaves,  until  no 
Indians  were  left  upon  the  earth."  And  when  his  voice 
died  away,  the  Indians  all  sat  in  silence  and  looked  at  one 
another  with  a  sudden  fear. 


[91] 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

XXII 

HIAWATHA'S  DEPARTURE 

ON  the  shore  of  the  Big-Sea-Water,  in  the  sunny 
morning,  Hiawatha  stood  in  the  doorway  of  his 
wigwam,  gazing  out  over  the  shining  lake.  The  sky 
was  bright  and  blue  above  him,  the  pebbles  sparkled 
on  the  beaches,  and  the  still  water  reflected  the  great  pine- 
trees  of  the  forest.  Every  trace  of  sorrow  was  gone  from 
Hiawatha's  face,  and  with  a  smile  of  joy  he  lifted  his  open 
hands  toward  the  blazing  sun  to  shade  his  eyes.  He  was 
watching  something  that  floated  far  out  on  the  water — 
some  image  which  he  could  not  plainly  see,  but  which  was 
drawing  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  village.  At  last  he  saw 
that  it  was  a  birch  canoe,  with  paddles  flashing  as  they  rose 
and  fell;  and  in  it  came  the  white-faced  people  from  the 
Land  of  Sunrise,  led  by  a  bearded  chief  in  a  black  robe, 
who  wore  a  cross  upon  his  breast. 

The  canoe  grated  on  the  pebbles,  and  Hiawatha,  with 
his  hands  stretched  outward  as  a  sign  of  friendship,  called 
to  them  in  welcome. 

"The  sun  is  fair  to  look  upon,  O  strangers,"  cried  out 
Hiawatha.  "Our  town  waits  for  you  in  peace,  and  the 
doors  of  all  our  wigwams  stand  open  to  receive  you.  Our 
tobacco  never  was  so  sweet  and  pleasant,  and  our  waving 

[92] 


HIAWATHA'S  DEPARTURE 

cornfields  never  seemed  so  beautiful  to  behold  as  this  morn 
ing,  when  you  visit  us  from  far-off  lands."  And  the  chief 
of  the  strange  people,  the  bearded  man  in  the  black  robe, 
answered,  stammering  a  little,  for  the  language  of  the 
Indians  was  strange  to  him:  "May  the  peace  of  Christ  be 
with  you  and  your  people,  Hiawatha!" 

Then  the  noble-hearted  Hiawatha  led  them  to  his  wig 
wam,  where  he  seated  them  on  skins  of  bison  and  ermine, 
while  Nokomis  brought  them  water  in  cups  of  birch-bark 
and  food  in  bowls  of  polished  basswood;  and  when  they 
were  done  with  eating,  peace-pipes  were  filled  with  willow- 
bark  and  lighted  for  them  to  smoke. 

All  the  warriors,  and  old  men,  and  the  magicians  of  the 
village  came  to  welcome  the  great  strangers,  and  they  sat 
around  the  doorway  of  Hiawatha's  wigwam  in  a  large 
circle,  smoking  their  pipes  and  waiting  for  the  strangers 
to  come  forth  and  to  speak  to  them.  The  black-robed 
chief  went  out  of  the  wigwam  and  greeted  all  the  Indians, 
while  they  said  to  him :  "O  Brother,  it  is  well  that  you  have 
come  so  far  to  see  us !" 

Then  the  bearded  man  in  the  black  robe  commenced  to 
speak,  showing  them  the  cross  that  he  wore  upon  his  breast, 
and  he  told  them  about  Christ  and  the  Virgin  Mary  and 
how  the  wicked  tribe,  the  Jews,  had  taken  Christ  and  cruci 
fied  him  long  ago,  and  the  Indians  smoked  on  in  silence, 
listening  to  his  words. 

[931 


THE  STORY  OF  HIAWATHA 

"It  is  well,"  they  said  when  he  had  finished;  "we  will 
think  upon  your  words  of  wisdom.  We  are  pleased." 

Then  they  rose  and  went  home  to  their  wigwams,  where 
they  told  the  young  men  and  women  all  about  the  strangers 
who  had  been  sent  by  the  Great  Manito;  and  in  Hiawatha's 
lodge  the  strangers,  weary  from  their  journey  and  the  sum 
mer  heat,  stretched  themselves  upon  the  robes  of  ermine 
and  went  fast  asleep. 

Slowly  a  coolness  fell  upon  the  air,  and  the  rays  of  sun 
set  gilded  every  thicket  of  the  forest,  when  Hiawatha  rose 
from  his  seat  and  whispered  to  Nokomis,  saying:  "O  Noko- 
mis,  I  am  going  on  a  long  journey  to  the  Land  of  Sunset  and 
the  home  of  the  North-west  wind.  See  that  no  harm  comes 
to  these  guests,  whom  I  leave  here  in  your  care.  See  that 
fear  and  danger  or  want  of  food  and  shelter  never  come 
near  them  in  the  lodge  of  Hiawatha." 

Forth  went  Hiawatha  into  the  village,  and  he  bade  fare 
well  to  all  the  warriors  and  to  all  the  young  men,  saying 
to  them:  "My  people,  I  am  going  on  a  distant  journey, 
and  many  winters  will  have  passed  before  I  come  once  more 
among  you.  Listen  to  the  truth  my  guests  will  tell  you, 
for  the  Great  Manito  has  sent  them,  and  I  leave  them  in 
your  care.  And  now,  farewell !"  cried  Hiawatha. 

On  the  shore  of  the  Big-Sea-Water  for  the  last  time 
Hiawatha  launched  his  birch  canoe,  pushed  it  out  from 
among  the  rushes  and  whispered  to  it,  "Westward!  West- 

[94] 


HIAWATHA'S  DEPARTURE 

ward!"  It  darted  forward  like  an  arrow,  and  the  rays  of 
the  setting  sun  shot  a  long  and  fiery  pathway  over  the 
smooth  waters  of  the  lake. 

Down  this  path  of  light  sailed  Hiawatha  in  his  birch 
canoe  right  into  the  flaming  sunset,  and  the  Indians  on  the 
shore  saw  him  moving  on  and  on  until  he  became  a  tiny 
speck  against  the  splendor  of  the  clouds.  With  a  final  lift 
and  fall  his  canoe  rose  upon  a  sunbeam,  and  as  it  disap 
peared  within  the  crimson  sky  the  Indians  all  cried  out: 
"Farewell,  farewell,  O  Hiawatha!"  And  the  trees  in  the 
forest,  the  waves  on  the  edges  of  the  lake  and  every 
living  creature  that  ran  or  swam  or  flew  took  up  the  cry: 
"Farewell,  Hiawatha!"  For  Hiawatha  had  disappeared 
forever  in  the  kingdom  of  the  North-west  wind  and  the  Is 
lands  of  the  Blessed. 


[951 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 


INTRODUCTION 

SHOULD  you  ask  me,  whence  these  stories'? 
Whence  these  legends  and  traditions, 
With  the  odors  of  the  forest, 
With  the  dew  and  damp  of  meadows, 
With  the  curling  smoke  of  wigwams, 
With  the  rushing  of  great  rivers, 
With  their  frequent  repetitions, 
And  their  wild  reverberations, 
As  of  thunder  in  the  mountains'? 

I  should  answer,  I  should  tell  you, 
"From  the  forests  and  the  prairies, 
From  the  great  lakes  of  the  Northland, 
From  the  land  of  the  O  jib  ways, 
From  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs, 
From  the  mountains,  moors,  and  fen-lands, 
Where  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
Feeds  among  the  reeds  and  rushes. 
I  repeat  them  as  I  heard  them 
From  the  lips  of  Nawadaha, 
The  musician,  the  sweet-singer." 
[991 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Should  you  ask  where  Nawadaha 
Found  these  songs,  so  wild  and  wayward, 
Found  these  legends  and  traditions, 
I  should  answer,  I  should  tell  you, 
"In  the  bird's-nests  of  the  forest, 
In  the  lodges  of  the  beaver. 
In  the  hoof -prints  of  the  bison, 
In  the  eyry  of  the  eagle! 

"All  the  wild-fowl  sang  them  to  him, 
In  the  moorlands  and  the  fen-lands, 
In  the  melancholy  marshes ; 
Chetowaik,  the  plover,  sang  them, 
Mahng,  the  loon,  the  wild-goose,  Wawa, 
The  blue  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
And  the  grouse,  the  Mushkodasa!" 

If  still  further  you  should  ask  me, 
Saying,  "Who  was  Nawadaha? 
Tell  us  of  this  Nawadaha," 
I  should  answer  your  inquiries 
Straightway  in  such  words  as  follow. 

"In  the  Vale  of  Tawasentha, 
In  the  green  and  silent  valley, 
By  the  pleasant  water-courses, 
Dwelt  the  singer  Nawadaha. 
Round  about  the  Indian  village 
Spread  the  meadows  and  the  cornfields, 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  beyond  them  stood  the  forest, 
Stood  the  groves  of  singing  pine-trees, 
Green  in  Summer,  white  in  Winter, 
Ever  sighing,  ever  singing. 

"And  the  pleasant  water-courses, 
You  could  trace  them  through  the  valley, 
By  the  rushing  in  the  Spring-time, 
By  the  alders  in  the  Summer, 
By  the  white  fog  in  the  Autumn, 
By  the  black  line  in  the  Winter; 
And  beside  them  dwelt  the  singer, 
In  the  Vale  of  Tawasentha, 
In  the  green  and  silent  valley. 

"There  he  sang  of  Hiawatha, 
Sang  the  song  of  Hiawatha, 
Sang  his  wondrous  birth  and  being, 
How  he  prayed  and  how  he  fasted, 
How  he  lived,  and  toiled,  and  suffered, 
That  the  tribes  of  men  might  prosper, 
That  he  might  advance  his  people !" 

Ye  who  love  the  haunts  of  Nature, 
Love  the  sunshine  of  the  meadow, 
Love  the  shadow  of  the  forest, 
Love  the  wind  among  the  branches, 
And  the  rain-shower  and  the  snow-storm, 
And  the  rushing  of  great  rivers 
[101] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Through  their  palisades  of  pine-trees, 
And  the  thunder  in  the  mountains, 
Whose  innumerable  echoes 
Flap  like  eagles  in  their  eyries  ;- 
Listen  to  these  wild  traditions, 
To  this  Song  of  Hiawatha ! 

Ye  who  love  a  nation's  legends, 
Love  the  ballads  of  a  people, 
That  like  voices  from  afar  off 
Call  to  us  to  pause  and  listen, 
Speak  in  tones  so  plain  and  childlike 
Scarcely  can  the  ear  distinguish 
Whether  they  are  sung  or  spoken ; — 
Listen  to  this  Indian  Legend, 
To  this  song  of  Hiawatha ! 

Ye  whose  hearts  are  fresh  and  simple, 
Who  have  faith  in  God  and  Nature, 
Who  believe,  that  in  all  ages 
Every  human  heart  is  human, 
That  in  even  savage  bosoms 
There  are  longings,  yearnings,  strivings 
For  the  good  they  comprehend  not, 
That  the  feeble  hands  and  helpless, 
Groping  blindly  in  the  darkness, 
Touch  God's  right  hand  in  that  darkness 
And  are  lifted  up  and  strengthened; — 

[  102] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Listen  to  this  simple  story, 
To  this  song  of  Hiawatha ! 

Ye,  who  sometimes  in  your  rambles 
Through  the  green  lanes  of  the  country, 
Where  the  tangled  barberry-bushes 
Hang  their  tufts  of  crimson  berries 
Over  stone  walls  gray  with  mosses, 
Pause  by  some  neglected  graveyard, 
For  a  while  to  muse,  and  ponder 
On  a  half-effaced  inscription, 
Written  with  little  skill  of  song-craft, 
Homely  phrases,  but  each  letter 
Full  of  hope,  and  yet  of  heart-break, 
Full  of  all  the  tender  pathos 
Of  the  Here  and  the  Hereafter; — 
Stay  and  read  this  rude  inscription, 
Read  this  song  of  Hiawatha! 


r  103 1 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 


THE  PEACE-PIPE 

ON  the  Mountains  of  the  Prairie, 
On  the  great  Red  Pipe-stone  Quarry, 
Gitche  Manito,  the  mighty, 
He  the  Master  of  Life,  descending, 
On  the  red  crags  of  the  quarry 
Stood  erect,  and  called  the  nations, 
Called  the  tribes  of  men  together. 

From  his  footprints  flowed  a  river, 
Leaped  into  the  light  of  morning, 
O'er  the  precipice  plunging  downward 
Gleamed  like  Ishkoodah,  the  comet. 
And  the  Spirit,  stooping  earthward, 
With  his  finger  on  the  meadow 
Traced  a  winding  pathway  for  it, 
Saying  to  it,  "Run  in  this  way!" 

From  the  red  stone  of  the  quarry 
With  his  hand  he  broke  a  fragment, 
[105] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Molded  it  into  a  pipe-head, 
Shaped  and  fashioned  it  with  figures; 
From  the  margin  of  the  river 
Took  a  long  reed  for  a  pipe-stem, 
With  its  dark  green  leaves  upon  it; 
Filled  the  pipe  with  bark  of  willow, 
With  the  bark  of  the  red  willow; 
Breathed  upon  the  neighboring  forest, 
Made  its  great  boughs  chafe  together. 
Till  in  flame  they  burst  and  kindled; 
And  erect  upon  the  mountains, 
Gitche  Manito,  the  mighty, 
Smoked  the  calumet,  the  Peace-Pipe, 
As  a  signal  to  the  nations. 

And  the  smoke  rose  slowly,  slowly, 
Through  the  tranquil  air  of  morning, 
First  a  single  line  of  darkness, 
Then  a  denser,  bluer  vapor, 
Then  a  snow-white  cloud  unfolding, 
Like  the  tree-tops  of  the  forest, 
Ever  rising,  rising,  rising, 
Till  it  touched  the  top  of  heaven, 
Till  it  broke  against  the  heaven, 
And  rolled  outward  all  around  it. 

From  the  Vale  of  Tawasentha, 
From  the  Valley  of  Wyoming, 
[106] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

From  the  groves  of  Tuscaloosa, 
From  the  far-off  Rocky  Mountains, 
From  the  Northern  lakes  and  rivers 
All  the  tribes  beheld  the  signal, 
Saw  the  distant  smoke  ascending 
The  Pukwana  of  the  Peace-Pipe. 

And  the  Prophets  of  the  nations 
Said :     "Behold  it,  the  Pukwana, 
By  this  signal  from  afar  off, 
Bending  like  a  wand  of  willow, 
Waving  like  a  hand  that  beckons, 
Gitche  Manito,  the  mighty, 
Calls  the  tribes  of  men  together, 
Calls  the  warriors  to  his  council!" 

Down  the  rivers,  o'er  the  prairies, 
Came  the  warriors  of  the  nations, 
Came  the  Delawares  and  Mohawks, 
Came  the  Choctaws  and  Comanches, 
Came  the  Shoshonies  and  Blackfeet, 
Came  the  Pawnees  and  Omahas, 
Came  the  Mandans  and  Dacotahs, 
Came  the  Hurons  and  O  jib  ways, 
All  the  warriors  drawn  together 
By  the  signal  of  the  Peace-Pipe, 
To  the  Mountains  of  the  Prairie, 
To  the  Great  Red  Pipe-stone  Quarry. 
[107] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  they  stood  there  on  the  meadow 
With  their  weapons  and  their  war-gear 
Painted  like  the  leaves  of  Autumn, 
Painted  like  the  sky  of  morning, 
Wildly  glaring  at  each  other; 
In  their  faces  stern  defiance, 
In  their  hearts  the  feuds  of  ages, 
The  hereditary  hatred, 
The  ancestral  thirst  of  vengeance. 

Gitche  Manito,  the  mighty, 
The  creator  of  the  nations, 
Looked  upon  them  with  compassion, 
With  paternal  love  and  pity; 
Looked  upon  their  wrath  and  wrangling, 
But  as  quarrels  among  children, 
But  as  feuds  and  fights  of  children ! 

Over  them  he  stretched  his  right  hand, 
To  subdue  their  stubborn  natures, 
To  allay  their  thirst  and  fever, 
By  the  shadow  of  his  right  hand ; 
Spake  to  them  with  voice  majestic 
As  the  sound  of  far-off  waters, 
Falling  into  deep  abysses, 
Warning,  chiding,  spake  in  this  wise : — 

"O  my  children !  my  poor  children ! 
Listen  to  the  words  of  wisdom, 
[108] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Listen  to  the  words  of  warning, 

From  the  lips  of  the  Great  Spirit, 

From  the  Master  of  Life,  who  made  you : 

"I  have  given  you  lands  to  hunt  in, 
I  have  given  you  streams  to  fish  in, 
I  have  given  you  bear  and  bison, 
I  have  given  you  roe  and  reindeer, 
I  have  given  you  brant  and  beaver, 
Filled  the  marshes  full  of  wild-fowl, 
Filled  the  rivers  full  of  fishes; 
Why  then  are  you  not  contented? 
Why  then  will  you  hunt  each  other? 

"I  am  weary  of  your  quarrels, 
Weary  of  your  wars  and  bloodshed. 
Weary  of  your  prayers  for  vengeance, 
Of  your  wranglings  and  dissensions ; 
All  your  strength  is  in  your  union, 
All  your  danger  is  in  discord; 
Therefore  be  at  peace  henceforward, 
And  as  brothers  live  together. 

"I  will  send  a  Prophet  to  you, 
A  Deliverer  of  the  nations, 
Who  shall  guide  you  and  shall  teach  you, 
Who  shall  toil  and  suffer  with  you. 
If  you  listen  to  his  counsels, 
You  will  multiply  and  prosper; 
[  109] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

If  his  warnings  pass  unheeded, 
You  will  fade  away  and  perish ! 

"Bathe  now  in  the  stream  before  you, 
Wash  the  war-paint  from  your  faces, 
Wash  the  blood-stains  from  your  fingers, 
Bury  your  war-clubs  and  your  weapons, 
Break  the  red  stone  from  this  quarry, 
Mold  and  make  it  into  Peace-Pipes, 
Take  the  reeds  that  grow  beside  you, 
Deck  them  with  your  brightest  feathers, 
Smoke  the  calumet  together, 
And  as  brothers  live  henceforward!" 

Then  upon  the  ground  the  warriors 
Threw  their  cloaks  and  shirts  of  deerskin, 
Threw  their  weapons  and  their  war-gear, 
Leaped  into  the  rushing  river, 
Washed  the  war-paint  from  their  faces 
Clear  above  them  flowed  the  water, 
Clear  and  limpid  from  the  footprints 
Of  the  Master  of  Life  descending; 
Dark  below  them  flowed  the  water, 
Soiled  and  stained  with  streaks  of  crimson, 
As  if  blood  were  mingled  with  it ! 

From  the  river  came  the  warriors, 
Clean  and  washed  from  all  their  war-paint; 
On  the  banks  their  clubs  they  buried, 
[no] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Buried  all  their  warlike  weapons. 
Gitche  Manito,  the  mighty, 
The  Great  Spirit,  the  creator, 
Smiled  upon  his  helpless  children ! 

And  in  silence  all  the  warriors 
Broke  the  red  stone  of  the  quarry, 
Smoothed  and  formed  it  into  Peace-Pipes, 
Broke  the  long  reeds  by  the  river, 
Decked  them  with  their  brightest  feathers, 
And  departed  each  one  homeward, 
While  the  Master  of  Life,  ascending, 
Through  the  opening  of  cloud-curtains, 
Through  the  doorways  of  the  heaven. 
Vanished  from  before  their  faces, 
In  the  smoke  that  rolled  around  him, 
The  Pukwana  of  the  Peace-Pipe! 

II 

THE  FOUR  WINDS 

tt  T  T  ONOR  be  to  Mudjekeewis !" 

JTjL    Cried  the  warriors,  cried  the  old  men, 
When  he  came  in  triumph  homeward 
With  the  sacred  Belt  of  Wampum, 
From  the  regions  of  the  North- Wind, 
From  the  kingdom  of  Wabasso, 
[in] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

From  the  land  of  the  White  Rabbit. 

He  had  stolen  the  Belt  of  Wampum 
From  the  neck  of  Mishe-Mokwa, 
From  the  Great  Bear  of  the  mountains, 
From  the  terror  of  the  nations, 
As  he  lay  asleep  and  cumbrous 
On  the  summit  of  the  mountains, 
Like  a  rock  with  mosses  on  it, 
Spotted  brown  and  gray  with  mosses. 

Silently  he  stole  upon  him, 
Till  the  red  nails  of  the  monster 
Almost  touched  him,  almost  scared  him, 
Till  the  hot  breath  of  his  nostrils 
Warmed  the  hands  of  Mudjekeewis, 
As  he  drew  the  Belt  of  Wampum 
Over  the  round  ears,  that  heard  not, 
Over  the  small  eyes,  that  saw  not, 
Over  the  long  nose  and  nostrils, 
The  black  muzzle  of  the  nostrils, 
Out  of  which  the  heavy  breathing 
Wanned  the  hands  of  Mudjekeewis. 

Then  he  swung  aloft  his  war-club, 
Shouted  loud  and  long  his  war-cry, 
Smote  the  mighty  Mishe-Mokwa 
In  the  middle  of  the  forehead, 
Right  between  the  eyes  he  smote  him. 
[112] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

With  the  heavy  blow  bewildered, 
Rose  the  Great  Bear  of  the  Mountains; 
But  his  knees  beneath  him  trembled, 
And  he  whimpered  like  a  woman, 
As  he  reeled  and  staggered  forward, 
As  he  sat  upon  his  haunches; 
And  the  mighty  Mudjekeewis, 
Standing  fearlessly  before  him, 
Taunted  him  in  loud  derision, 
Spake  disdainfully  in  this  wise: — 

"Hark  you,  Bear!  you  are  a  coward, 
And  no  Brave,  as  you  pretended; 
Else  you  would  not  cry  and  whimper 
Like  a  miserable  woman ! 
Bear !  you  know  our  tribes  are  hostile, 
Long  have  been  at  war  together; 
Now  you  find  that  we  are  strongest, 
You  go  sneaking  in  the  forest, 
You  go  hiding  in  the  mountains ! 
Had  you  conquered  me  in  battle 
Not  a  groan  would  I  have  uttered; 
But  you,  Bear !  sit  here  and  whimper, 
And  disgrace  your  tribe  by  crying, 
Like  a  wretched  Shaugodaya, 
Like  a  cowardly  old  woman!" 

Then  again  he  raised  his  war-club, 
[113] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Smote  again  the  Mishe-Mokwa 
In  the  middle  of  his  forehead, 
Broke  his  skull  as  ice  is  broken 
When  one  goes  to  fish  in  Winter. 
Thus  was  slain  the  Mishe-Mokwa, 
He  the  Great  Bear  of  the  mountains, 
He  the  terror  of  the  nations. 

"Honor  be  to  Mudjekeewis!" 
With  a  shout  exclaimed  the  people, 
"Honor  be  to  Mudjekeewis! 
Henceforth  he  shall  be  the  West- Wind, 
And  hereafter  and  forever 
Shall  he  hold  supreme  dominion 
Over  all  the  winds  of  heaven, 
Call  him  no  more  Mudjekeewis, 
Call  him  Kabeyun,  the  West- Wind!" 

Thus  was  Mudjekeewis  chosen 
Father  of  the  Winds  of  Heaven. 
For  himself  he  kept  the  West- Wind, 
Gave  the  others  to  his  children; 
Unto  Wabun  gave  the  East- Wind, 
Gave  the  South  to  Shawondasee, 
And  the  North- Wind,  wild  and  cruel, 
To  the  fierce  Kabibonokka. 

Young  and  beautiful  was  Wabun; 
He  it  was  who  brought  the  morning, 
[114] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

He  it  was  whose  silver  arrows 
Chased  the  dark  o'er  hill  and  valley; 
He  it  was  whose  cheeks  were  painted 
With  the  brightest  streaks  of  crimson. 
And  whose  voice  awoke  the  village, 
Called  the  deer  and  called  the  hunter. 

Lonely  in  the  sky  was  Wabun ; 
Though  the  birds  sang  gayly  to  him, 
Though  the  wild-flowers  of  the  meadow 
Filled  the  air  with  odors  for  him, 
Though  the  forests  and  the  rivers 
Sang  and  shouted  at  his  coming, 
Still  his  heart  was  sad  within  him, 
For  he  was  alone  in  heaven. 

But  one  morning,  gazing  earthward, 
While  the  village  still  was  sleeping, 
And  the  fog  lay  on  the  river, 
Like  a  ghost,  that  goes  at  sunrise, 
He  beheld  a  maiden  walking 
All  alone  upon  a  meadow, 
Gathering  water-flags  and  rushes 
By  a  river  in  the  meadow. 

Every  morning  gazing  earthward, 
Still  the  first  thing  he  beheld  there 
Was  her  blue  eyes  looking  at  him, 
Two  blue  lakes  among  the  rushes. 
[us] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  he  loved  the  lonely  maiden, 
Who  thus  waited  for  his  coming; 
For  they  both  were  solitary, 
She  on  earth  and  he  in  heaven. 

And  he  wooed  her  with  caresses, 
Wooed  her  with  his  smile  of  sunshine, 
With  his  flattering  words  he  wooed  her 
With  his  sighing  and  his  singing, 
Gentlest  whispers  in  the  brancheSj 
Softest  music,  sweetest  odors, 
Till  he  drew  her  to  his  bosom, 
Folded  in  his  robes  of  crimson, 
Till  into  a  star  he  changed  her, 
Trembling  still  upon  his  bosom; 
And  forever  in  the  heavens 
They  are  seen  together  walking, 
Wabun  and  the  Wabun-Annung, 
Wabun  and  the  Star  of  Morning. 

But  the  fierce  Kabibonokka 
Had  his  dwelling  among  icebergs, 
In  the  everlasting  snow-drifts, 
In  the  kingdom  of  Wabasso, 
In  the  land  of  the  White  Rabbit. 
He  it  was  whose  hand  in  Autumn 
Painted  all  the  trees  with  scarlet, 
Stained  the  leaves  with  red  and  yellow; 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

He  it  was  who  sent  the  snow-flakes, 
Sifting,  hissing  through  the  forest, 
Froze  the  ponds,  the  lakes,  the  rivers, 
Drove  the  loon  and  sea-gull  southward, 
Drove  the  cormorant  and  curlew 
To  their  nests  of  sedge  and  sea-tang 
In  the  realms  of  Shawondasee. 

Once  the  fierce  Kabibonokka 
Issued  from  his  lodge  of  snow-drifts, 
From  his  home  among  the  icebergs, 
And  his  hair,  with  snow  besprinkled, 
Streamed  behind  him  like  a  river, 
Like  a  black  and  wintry  river, 
As  he  howled  and  hurried  southward, 
Over  frozen  lakes  and  moorlands. 

There  among  the  reeds  and  rushes 
Found  he  Shingebis,  the  diver, 
Trailing  strings  of  fish  behind  him, 
O'er  the  frozen  fens  and  moorlands, 
Lingering  still  among  the  moorlands, 
Though  his  tribe  had  long  departed 
To  the  land  of  Shawondasee. 

Cried  the  fierce  Kabibonokka, 
"Who  is  this  that  dares  to  brave  me? 
Dares  to  stay  in  my  dominions, 
When  the  Wawa  has  departed, 
[117] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

When  the  wild-goose  has  gone  southward, 

And  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 

Long  ago  departed  southward? 

I  will  go  into  his  wigwam, 

I  will  put  his  smouldering  fire  out!" 

And  at  night  Kabibonokka 
To  the  lodge  came  wild  and  wailing, 
Heaped  the  snow  in  drifts  about  it, 
Shouted  down  into  the  smoke-flue, 
Shook  the  lodge-poles  in  his  fury, 
Flapped  the  curtain  of  the  doorway. 
Shingebis,  the  diver,  feared  not, 
Shingebis,  the  diver,  cared  not; 
Four  great  logs  had  he  for  firewood, 
One  for  each  moon  of  the  winter, 
And  for  food  the  fishes  served  him. 
By  his  blazing  fire  he  sat  there, 
Warm  and  merry,  eating,  laughing, 
Singing  "O  Kabibonokka, 
You  are  but  my  fellow-mortal!" 

Then  Kabibonokka  entered, 
And  though  Shingebis,  the  diver, 
Felt  his  presence  by  the  coldness, 
Felt  his  icy  breath  upon  him, 
Still  he  did  not  cease  his  singing, 
Still  he  did  not  leave  his  laughing, 
[118] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Only  turned  the  log  a  little, 
Only  made  the  fire  burn  brighter, 
Made  the  sparks  fly  up  the  smoke-flue. 

From  Kabibonokka's  forehead, 
From  his  snow-besprinkled  tresses, 
Drops  of  sweat  fell  fast  and  heavy, 
Making  dints  upon  the  ashes, 
As  along  the  eves  of  lodges, 
As  from  drooping  boughs  of  hemlock, 
Drips  the  melting  snow  in  springtime, 
Making  hollows  in  the  snow-drifts. 

Till  at  last  he  rose  defeated. 
Could  not  bear  the  heat  and  laughter, 
Could  not  bear  the  merry  singing, 
But  rushed  headlong  through  the  doorway, 
Stamped  upon  the  crusted  snow-drifts, 
Stamped  upon  the  lakes  and  rivers, 
Made  the  snow  upon  them  harder, 
Made  the  ice  upon  them  thicker, 
Challenged  Shingebis,  the  diver, 
To  come  forth  and  wrestle  with  him, 
To  come  forth  and  wrestle  naked 
On  the  frozen  fens  and  moorlands. 

Forth  went  Shingebis,  the  diver, 
Wrestled  all  night  with  the  North- Wind, 
Wrestled  naked  on  the  moorlands 
[119] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

With  the  fierce  Kabibonokka, 

Till  his  panting  breath  grew  fainter, 

Till  his  frozen  grasp  grew  feebler, 

Till  he  reeled  and  staggered  backward, 

And  retreated,  baffled,  beaten, 

To  the  kingdom  of  Wabasso, 

To  the  land  of  the  White  Rabbit, 

Hearing  still  the  gusty  laughter, 

Hearing  Shingebis,  the  diver, 

Singing,  "O  Kabibonokka, 

You  are  but  my  fellow-mortal !" 

Shawondasee,  fat  and  lazy, 
Had  his  dwelling  far  to  southward, 
In  the  drowsy,  dreamy  sunshine, 
In  the  never-ending  Summer. 
He  it  was  who  sent  the  wood-birds, 
Sent  the  Opechee,  the  robin, 
Sent  the  blue  bird,  the  Owaissa, 
Sent  the  Shawshaw,  sent  the  swallow, 
Sent  the  wild-goose,  Wawa,  northward, 
Sent  the  melons  and  tobacco, 
And  the  grapes  in  purple  clusters. 

From  his  pipe  the  smoke  ascending 
Filled  the  sky  with  haze  and  vapor, 
Filled  the  air  with  dreamy  softness, 
Gave  a  twinkle  to  the  water, 
[  120] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Touched  the  rugged  hills  with  smoothness, 
Brought  the  tender  Indian  Summer 
To  the  melancholy  North-land, 
In  the  dreary  Moon  of  Snow-shoes. 

Listless,  careless  Shawondasee! 
In  his  life  he  had  one  shadow, 
In  his  heart  one  sorrow  had  he. 
Once,  as  he  was  gazing  northward, 
Far  away  upon  a  prairie 
He  beheld  a  maiden  standing, 
Saw  a  tall  and  slender  maiden 
All  alone  upon  a  prairie ; 
Brightest  green  were  all  her  garments 
And  her  hair  was  like  the  sunshine. 

Day  by  day  he  gazed  upon  her, 
Day  by  day  he  sighed  with  passion, 
Day  by  day  his  heart  within  him 
Grew  more  hot  with  love  and  longing 
For  the  maid  with  yellow  tresses. 
But  he  was  too  fat  and  lazy 
To  bestir  himself  and  woo  her; 
Yes,  too  indolent  and  easy 
To  pursue  her  and  persuade  her, 
So  he  only  gazed  upon  her, 
Only  sat  and  sighed  with  passion 
For  the  maiden  of  the  prairie. 

[121] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Till  one  morning,  looking  northward, 
He  beheld  her  yellow  tresses 
Changed  and  covered  o'er  with  whiteness, 
Covered  as  with  whitest  snow-flakes. 
"Ah !  my  brother  from  the  North-land, 
From  the  kingdom  of  Wabasso, 
From  the  land  of  the  White  Rabbit ! 
You  have  stolen  the  maiden  from  me, 
You  have  laid  your  hand  upon  her, 
You  have  wooed  and  won  my  maiden, 
With  your  stories  of  the  North-land!" 

Thus  the  wretched  Shawondasee 
Breathed  into  the  air  his  sorrow; 
And  the  South- Wind  o'er  the  prairie 
Wandered  warm  with  sighs  of  passion 
With  the  sighs  of  Shawondasee, 
Till  the  air  seemed  full  of  snow-flakes, 
Full  of  thistle-down  the  prairie, 
And  the  maid  with  hair  like  sunshine 
Vanished  from  his  sight  forever; 
Never  more  did  Shawondasee 
See  the  maid  with  yellow  tresses ! 

Poor,  deluded  Shawondasee ! 
JTwas  no  woman  that  you  gazed  at, 
'Twas  no  maiden  that  you  sighed  for, 
'Twas  the  prairie  dandelion 

[122] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

That  through  all  the  dreamy  Summer 
You  had  gazed  at  with  such  longing, 
You  had  sighed  for  with  such  passion, 
And  had  puffed  away  forever, 
Blown  into  the  air  with  sighing. 
Ah !  deluded  Shawondasee ! 

Thus  the  Four  Winds  were  divided; 
Thus  the  sons  of  Mudjekeewis 
Had  their  stations  in  the  heavens, 
At  the  corners  of  the  heavens; 
For  himself  the  West- Wind  only 
Kept  the  mighty  Mudjekeewis. 


DOWNWARD   through   the   evening  twi- 
light, 

In  the  days  that  are  forgotten, 
In  the  unremembered  ages, 
From  the  full  moon  fell  Nokomis, 
Fell  the  beautiful  Nokomis. 
She  a  wife,  but  not  a  mother. 

She  was  sporting  with  her  women, 
Swinging  in  a  swing  of  grape-vines, 
When  her  rival,  the  rejected, 
[  123  ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Full  of  jealousy  and  hatred, 

Cut  the  leafy  swing  asunder, 

Cut  in  twain  the  twisted  grape-vines, 

And  Nokomis  fell  affrighted 

Downward  through  the  evening  twilight, 

On  the  Muskoday,  the  meadow, 

On  the  prairie  full  of  blossoms. 

"See!  a  star  falls!"  said  the  people; 

"From  the  sky  a  star  is  falling!" 

There  among  the  ferns  and  mosses, 
There  among  the  prairie  lilies, 
On  the  Muskoday,  the  meadow, 
In  the  moonlight,  and  the  starlight, 
Fair  Nokomis  bore  a  daughter. 
And  she  called  her  name  Wenonah, 
As  the  first-born  of  her  daughters. 
And  the  daughter  of  Nokomis 
Grew  up  like  the  prairie  lilies, 
Grew  a  tall  and  slender  maiden, 
With  the  beauty  of  the  moonlight, 
With  the  beauty  of  the  starlight. 

And  Nokomis  warned  her  often, 
Saying  oft,  and  oft  repeating, 
"O,  beware  of  Mudjekeewis, 
Of  the  West- Wind,  Mudjekeewis; 
Listen  not  to  what  he  tells  you ; 
[124] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Lie  not  down  upon  the  meadow, 
Stoop  not  down  among  the  lilies, 
Lest  the  West- Wind  come  and  harm  you!" 

But  she  heeded  not  the  warning, 
Heeded  not  those  words  of  wisdom, 
And  the  West- Wind  came  at  evening, 
Walking  lightly  o'er  the  prairie, 
Whispering  to  the  leaves  and  blossoms, 
Bending  low  the  flowers  and  grasses, 
Found  the  beautiful  Wenonah, 
Lying  there  among  the  lilies, 
Wooed  her  with  his  words  of  sweetness, 
Wooed  her  with  his  soft  caresses, 
Till  she  bore  a  son  in  sorrow, 
Bore  a  son  of  love  and  sorrow. 

Thus  was  born  my  Hiawatha, 
Thus  was  born  the  child  of  wonder; 
But  the  daughter  of  Nokomis, 
Hiawatha's  gentle  mother, 
In  her  anguish  died  deserted 
By  the  West- Wind,  false  and  faithless, 
By  the  heartless  Mudjekeewis. 

For  her  daughter,  long  and  loudly 
Wailed  and  wept  the  sad  Nokomis ; 
"O  that  I  were  dead!"  she  murmured, 
"O  that  I  were  dead,  as  thou  art! 
[125] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

No  more  work,  and  no  more  weeping, 
Wahonowin!     Wahonowin!" 

By  the  shores  of  Gitche  Gumee, 
By  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water, 
Stood  the  wigwam  of  Nokomis, 
Daughter  of  the  Moon,  Nokomis. 
Dark  behind  it  rose  the  forest, 
Rose  the  black  and  gloomy  pine-trees, 
Rose  the  firs  with  cones  upon  them; 
Bright  before  it  beat  the  water, 
Beat  the  clear  and  sunny  water, 
Beat  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water, 

There  the  wrinkled,  old  Nokomis 
Nursed  the  little  Hiawatha, 
Rocked  him  in  his  linden  cradle, 
Bedded  soft  in  moss  and  rushes, 
Safely  bound  with  reindeer  sinews; 
Stilled  his  fretful  wail  by  saying, 
"Hush!  the  Naked  Bear  will  get  thee!" 
Lulled  him  into  slumber,  singing, 
"Ewa-yea!  my  little  owlet! 
Who  is  this,  that  lights  the  wigwam? 
With  his  great  eyes  lights  the  wigwam? 
Ewa-yea!  my  little  owlet!" 

Many  things  Nokomis  taught  him 
Of  the  stars  that  shine  in  heaven; 
[  126- ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Showed  him  Ishkoodah,  the  comet, 
Ishkoodah,  with  fiery  tresses; 
Showed  the  Death-Dance  of  the  spirits, 
Warriors  with  their  plumes  and  war-clubs, 
Flaring  far  away  to  northward 
In  the  frosty  nights  of  Winter; 
Showed  the  broad,  white  road  in  heaven, 
Pathway  of  the  ghosts,  the  shadows, 
Running  straight  across  the  heavens, 
Crowded  with  the  ghosts,  the  shadows. 

At  the  door  on  summer  evenings 
Sat  the  little  Hiawatha; 
Heard  the  whispering  of  the  pine-trees, 
Heard  the  lapping  of  the  water, 
Sounds  of  music,  words  of  wonder; 
"Minne-wawa!"  said  the  pine-trees, 
"Mudway  aushka!"  said  the  water. 

Saw  the  fire-fly,  Wah-wah-taysee, 
Flitting  through  the  dusk  of  evening, 
With  the  twinkle  of  its  candle 
Lighting  up  the  brakes  and  bushes, 
And  he  sang  the  song  of  children, 
Sang  the  song  Nokomis  taught  him; 
"Wah-wah-taysee,  little  fire-fly, 
Little,  flitting,  white-fire  insect, 
Little,  dancing,  white-fire  creature, 
[127] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Light  me  with  your  little  candle, 

Ere  upon  my  bed  I  lay  me, 

Ere  in  sleep  I  close  my  eyelids!" 

Saw  the  moon  rise  from  the  water 
Rippling,  rounding  from  the  water, 
Saw  the  flecks  and  shadows  on  it, 
Whispered,  "What  is  that,  Nokomis?" 
And  the  good  Nokomis  answered : 
"Once  a  warrior,  very  angry, 
Seized  his  grandmother,  and  threw  her 
Up  into  the  sky  at  midnight ; 
Right  against  the  moon  he  threw  her; 
'Tis  her  body  that  you  see  there." 

Saw  the  rainbow  in  the  heaven, 
In  the  eastern  sky,  the  rainbow, 
Whispered,  "What  is  that,  Nokomis?" 
And  the  good  Nokomis  answered : 

'Tis  the  heaven  of  flowers  you  see  there; 
All  the  wild-flowers  of  the  forest, 
All  the  lilies  of  the  prairie, 
When  on  earth  they  fade  and  perish, 
Blossom  in  that  heaven  above  us." 

When  he  heard  the  owls  at  midnight, 
Hooting,  laughing  in  the  forest, 
"What  is  that?"  he  cried  in  terror; 
"What  is  that?"  he  said,  "Nokomis?" 
[128] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  the  good  Nokomis  answered: 
"That  is  but  the  owl  and  owlet, 
Talking  in  their  native  language, 
Talking,  scolding  at  each  other." 

Then  the  little  Hiawatha 
Learned  of  every  bird  its  language, 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets, 
How  they  built  their  nests  in  Summer, 
Where  they  hid  themselves  in  Winter, 
Talked  with  them  whene'er  he  met  them, 
Called  them  "Hiawatha's  Chickens." 

Of  all  beasts  he  learned  the  language, 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets, 
How  the  beavers  built  their  lodges, 
Where  the  squirrels  hid  their  acorns, 
How  the  reindeer  ran  so  swiftly, 
Why  the  rabbit  was  so  timid, 
Talked  with  them  whene'er  he  met  them, 
Called  them  "Hiawatha's  Brothers." 

Then  lagoo,  the  great  boaster, 
He  the  marvellous  story-teller, 
He  the  traveller  and  the  talker, 
He  the  friend  of  old  Nokomis, 
Made  a  bow  for  Hiawatha; 
From  a  branch  of  ash  he  made  it, 
From  an  oak-bough  made  the  arrows, 
[  129] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Tipped  with  flint,  and  winged  with  feathers, 
And  the  cord  he  made  of  deer-skin. 

Then  he  said  to  Hiawatha : 
"Go,  my  son,  into  the  forest, 
Where  the  red  deer  herd  together, 
Kill  for  us  a  famous  roebuck, 
Kill  for  us  a  deer  with  antlers!" 

Forth  into  the  forest  straightway 
All  alone  walked  Hiawatha 
Proudly,  with  his  bow  and  arrows ; 
And  the  birds  sang  round  him,  o'er  him, 
"Do  not  shoot  us,  Hiawatha!" 
Sang  the  Opechee,  the  robin, 
Sang  the  bluebird,  the  Owaissa, 
"Do  not  shoot  us,  Hiawatha!" 

Up  the  oak-tree,  close  beside  him, 
Sprang  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo, 
In  and  out  among  the  branches, 
Coughed  and  chattered  from  the  oak-tree, 
Laughed,  and  said  between  his  laughing, 
"Do  not  shoot  me,  Hiawatha!" 

And  the  rabbit  from  his  pathway 
Leaped  aside,  and  at  a  distance 
Sat  erect  upon  his  haunches, 
Half  in  fear  and  half  in  frolic. 
Saying  to  the  little  hunter, 
[130] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"Do  not  shoot  me,  Hiawatha!" 

But  he  heeded  not,  nor  heard  them, 
For  his  thoughts  were  with  the  red  deer; 
On  their  tracks  his  eyes  were  fastened, 
Leading  downward  to  the  river, 
To  the  ford  across  the  river, 
And  as  one  in  slumber  walked  he. 

Hidden  in  the  alder-bushes, 
There  he  waited  till  the  deer  came, 
Till  he  saw  two  antlers  lifted, 
Saw  two  eyes  look  from  the  thicket, 
Saw  two  nostrils  point  to  windward, 
And  a  deer  came  down  the  pathway, 
Flecked  with  leafy  light  and  shadow. 
And  his  heart  within  him  fluttered, 
Trembled  like  the  leaves  above  him, 
Like  the  birch-leaf  palpitated, 
As  the  deer  came  down  the  pathway. 

Then  upon  one  knee  uprising, 
Hiawatha  aimed  an  arrow; 
Scarce  a  twig  moved  with  his  motion, 
Scarce  a  leaf  was  stirred  or  rustled, 
But  the  wary  roebuck  started, 
Stamped  with  all  his  hoofs  together, 
Listened  with  one  foot  uplifted, 
Leaped  as  if  to  meet  the  arrow; 
[131] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Ah !  the  singing,  fatal  arrow, 

Like  a  wasp  it  buzzed  and  stung  him ! 

Dead  he  lay  there  in  the  forest, 
By  the  ford  across  the  river; 
Beat  his  timid  heart  no  longer, 
But  the  heart  of  Hiawatha 
Throbbed  and  shouted  and  exulted, 
As  he  bore  the  red  deer  homeward, 
And  lagoo  and  Nokomis 
Hailed  his  coming  with  applauses. 

From  the  red  deer's  hide  Nokomis 
Made  a  cloak  for  Hiawatha, 
From  the  red  deer's  flesh  Nokomis 
Made  a  banquet  in  his  honor. 
All  the  village  came  and  feasted, 
All  the  guests  praised  Hiawatha, 
Called  him  Strong-Heart,  Soan-ge-taha ! 
Called  him  Loon-Heart,  Mahn-go-taysee ! 


[  132] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

IV 

HIAWATHA  AND  MUDJEKEEWIS 

OUT  of  childhood  into  manhood 
Now  had  grown  my  Hiawatha, 
Skilled  in  all  the  craft  of  hunters, 
Learned  in  all  the  lore  of  old  men, 
In  all  youthful  sports  and  pastimes, 
In  all  manly  arts  and  labors. 

Swift  of  foot  was  Hiawatha; 
He  could  shoot  an  arrow  from  him, 
And  run  forward  with  such  fleetness 
That  the  arrow  fell  behind  him ! 
Strong  of  arm  was  Hiawatha ; 
He  could  shoot  ten  arrows  upward. 
Shoot  them  with  such  strength  and  swiftness, 
That  the  tenth  had  left  the  bow-string 
Ere  the  first  to  earth  had  fallen ! 

He  had  mittens,  Minjekahwun, 
Magic  mittens  made  of  deer-skin ; 
When  upon  his  hands  he  wore  them, 
He  could  smite  the  rocks  asunder, 
He  could  grind  them  into  powder. 
He  had  moccasins  enchanted, 
Magic  moccasins  of  deer-skin; 
C 133] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

When  he  bound  them  round  his  ankles, 
When  upon  his  feet  he  tied  them, 
At  each  stride  a  mile  he  measured ! 

Much  he  questioned  old  Nokomis 
Of  his  father  Mudjekeewis; 
Learned  from  her  the  fatal  secret 
Of  the  beauty  of  his  mother, 
Of  the  falsehood  of  his  father; 
And  his  heart  was  hot  within  him, 
Like  a  living  coal  his  heart  was. 

Then  he  said  to  old  Nokomis, 
"I  will  go  to  Mudjekeewis, 
See  how  fares  it  with  my  father, 
At  the  door-ways  of  the  West- Wind, 
At  the  portals  of  the  Sunset!" 

From  his  lodge  went  Hiawatha, 
Dressed  for  travel,  armed  for  hunting; 
Dressed  in  deer-skin  shirt  and  leggings, 
Richly  wrought  with  quills  and  wampum; 
On  his  head  his  eagle  feathers, 
Round  his  waist  his  belt  of  wampum, 
In  his  hand  his  bow  of  ash- wood, 
Strung  with  sinews  of  the  reindeer; 
In  his  quiver  oaken  arrows, 
Tipped  with  jasper,  winged  with  feathers; 
With  his  mittens  Minjekahwun, 
[i34] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

With  his  moccasins  enchanted. 

Warning  said  the  old  Nokomis, 
"Go  not  forth,  O  Hiawatha ! 
To  the  kingdom  of  the  West- Wind, 
To  the  realms  of  Mudjekeewis, 
Lest  he  harm  you  with  his  magic, 
Lest  he  kill  you  with  his  cunning!" 

But  the  fearless  Hiawatha 
Heeded  not  her  woman's  warning; 
Forth  he  strode  into  the  forest, 
At  each  stride  a  mile  he  measured; 
Lurid  seemed  the  sky  above  him, 
Lurid  seemed  the  earth  beneath  him, 
Hot  and  close  the  air  around  him, 
Filled  with  smoke  and  fiery  vapors, 
As  of  burning  woods  and  prairies, 
For  his  heart  was  hot  within  him, 
Like  a  living  coal  his  heart  was. 

So  he  journeyed  westward,  westward, 
Left  the  fleetest  deer  behind  him, 
Left  the  antelope  and  bison ; 
Crossed  the  rushing  Escanaba, 
Crossed  the  mighty  Mississippi, 
Passed  the  Mountains  of  the  Prairie, 
Passed  the  land  of  Crows  and  Foxes, 
Passed  the  dwellings  of  the  Blackfeet, 
[i35] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Came  unto  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
To  the  kingdom  of  the  West- Wind, 
Where  upon  the  gusty  summits 
Sat  the  ancient  Mudjekeewis, 
Ruler  of  the  winds  of  heaven. 

Filled  with  awe  was  Hiawatha 
At  the  aspect  of  his  father 
On  the  air  about  him  wildly 
Tossed  and  streamed  the  cloudy  tresses, 
Gleamed  like  drifting  snow  his  tresses, 
Glared  like  Ishkoodah,  the  comet, 
Like  the  star  with  fiery  tresses. 

Filled  with  joy  was  Mudjekeewis 
When  he  looked  on  Hiawatha, 
Saw  his  youth  rise  up  before  him 
In  the  face  of  Hiawatha, 
Saw  the  beauty  of  Wenonah 
From  the  grave  rise  up  before  him. 

"Welcome!"  said  he,  "Hiawatha, 
To  the  kingdom  of  the  West- Wind ! 
Long  have  I  been  waiting  for  you ! 
Youth  is  lovely,  age  is  lonely, 
Youth  is  fiery,  age  is  frosty ; 
You  bring  back  the  days  departed, 
You  bring  back  my  youth  of  passion, 
And  the  beautiful  Wenonah!" 
[136] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Many  days  they  talked  together, 
Questioned,  listened,  waited,  answered; 
Much  the  mighty  Mudjekeewis 
Boasted  of  his  ancient  prowess, 
Of  his  perilous  adventures, 
His  indomitable  courage, 
His  invulnerable  body. 

Patiently  sat  Hiawatha, 
Listening  to  his  father's  boasting; 
With  a  smile  he  sat  and  listened, 
Uttered  neither  threat  nor  menace, 
Neither  word  nor  look  betrayed  him, 
But  his  heart  was  hot  within  him, 
Like  a  living  coal  his  heart  was. 

Then  he  said,  "O  Mudjekeewis, 
Is  there  nothing  that  can  harm  you? 
Nothing  that  you  are  afraid  of?" 
And  the  mighty  Mudjekeewis, 
Grand  and  gracious  in  his  boasting, 
Answered  saying,  "There  is  nothing, 
Nothing  but  the  black  rock  yonder, 
Nothing  but  the  fatal  Wawbeek?" 

And  he  looked  at  Hiawatha 
With  a  wise  look  and  benignant, 
With  a  countenance  paternal, 
Looked  with  pride  upon  the  beauty 
[1371 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Of  his  tall  and  graceful  figure, 
Saying,  "O  my  Hiawatha! 
Is  there  anything  can  harm  you? 
Anything  you  are  afraid  of?" 

But  the  wary  Hiawatha 
Paused  awhile,  as  if  uncertain, 
Held  his  peace,  as  if  resolving, 
And  then  answered,  "There  is  nothing, 
Nothing  but  the  bulrush  yonder, 
Nothing  but  the  great  Apukwa!" 

And  as  Mudjekeewis,  rising, 
Stretched  his  hand  to  pluck  the  bulrush, 
Hiawatha  cried  in  terror. 
Cried  in  well-dissembled  terror, 
"Kago!  kago!  do  not  touch  it!" 
"Ah,  kaween!"  said  Mudjekeewis, 
"No  indeed,  I  will  not  touch  it!" 

Then  they  talked  of  other  matters; 
First  of  Hiawatha's  brothers, 
First  of  Wabun,  of  the  East- Wind, 
Of  the  South- Wind,  Shawondasee, 
Of  the  North  Kabibonokka; 
Then  of  Hiawatha's  mother, 
Of  the  beautiful  Wenonah, 
Of  her  birth  upon  the  meadow, 
Of  her  death,  as  old  Nokomis 
[138] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Had  remembered  and  related. 

And  he  cried,  "O  Mudjekeewis, 
It  was  you  who  killed  Wenonah, 
Took  her  young  life  and  her  beauty, 
Broke  the  Lily  of  the  Prairie, 
Trampled  it  beneath  your  footsteps; 
You  confess  it!  you  confess  it!" 
And  the  Mighty  Mudjekeewis 
Tossed  his  gray  hairs  to  the  West- Wind, 
Bowed  his  hoary  head  in  anguish, 
With  a  silent  nod  assented. 

Then  up  started  Hiawatha, 
And  with  threatening  look  and  gesture 
Laid  his  hand  upon  the  black  rock, 
On  the  fatal  Wawbeek  laid  it, 
With  his  mittens,  Minjekahwun, 
Rent  the  jutting  crag  asunder, 
Smote  and  crushed  it  into  fragments, 
Hurled  them  madly  at  his  father. 
The  remorseful  Mudjekeewis, 
For  his  heart  was  hot  within  him, 
Like  a  living  coal  his  heart  was. 

But  the  ruler  of  the  West- Wind 
Blew  the  fragments  backward  from  him, 
With  the  breathing  of  his  nostrils, 
With  the  tempest  of  his  anger, 
[i39] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Blew  them  back  at  his  assailant; 
Seized  the  bulrush,  the  Apukwa, 
Dragged  it  with  its  roots  and  fibres 
From  the  margin  of  the  meadow, 
From  its  ooze,  the  giant  bulrush; 
Long  and  loud  laughed  Hiawatha ! 

Then  began  the  deadly  conflict, 
Hand  to  hand  among  the  mountains 
From  his  eyry  screamed  the  eagle, 
The  Keneu,  the  great  war-eagle, 
Sat  upon  the  crags  around  them, 
Wheeling  flapped  his  wings  above  them. 

Like  a  tall  tree  in  the  tempest 
Bent  and  lashed  the  giant  bulrush; 
And  in  masses  huge  and  heavy 
Crashing  fell  the  fatal  Wawbeek; 
Till  the  earth  shook  with  the  tumult 
And  confusion  of  the  battle, 
And  the  air  was  full  of  shoutings, 
And  the  thunder  of  the  mountains, 
Starting,  answered,  "Baim-wawa!" 

Back  retreated  Mudjekeewis, 
Rushing  westward  o'er  the  mountains, 
Stumbling  westward  down  the  mountains, 
Three  whole  days  retreated  fighting, 
Still  pursued  by  Hiawatha 
[  140] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

To  the  door-ways  of  the  West- Wind, 
To  the  portals  of  the  Sunset, 
To  the  earth's  remotest  border, 
Where  into  the  empty  spaces 
Sinks  the  sun,  as  a  flamingo 
Drops  into  her  nest  at  nightfall, 
In  the  melancholy  marshes. 

"Hold!"  at  length  cried  Mudjekeewis, 
"Hold,  my  son,  my  Hiawatha ! 
'Tis  impossible  to  kill  me, 
For  you  cannot  kill  the  immortal. 
I  have  put  you  to  this  trial, 
But  to  know  and  prove  your  courage ; 
Now  receive  the  prize  of  valor ! 

"Go  back  to  your  home  and  people, 
Live  among  them,  toil  among  them, 
Cleanse  the  earth  from  all  that  harms  it, 
Clear  the  fishing-grounds  and  rivers. 
Slay  all  monsters  and  magicians, 
All  the  giants,  the  Wendigoes, 
All  the  serpents,  the  Kenabeeks, 
As  I  slew  the  Mishe-Mokwa. 
Slew  the  Great  Bear  of  the  mountains, 

"And  at  last  when  Death  draws  near  you, 
When  the  awful  eyes  of  Pauguk 
Glare  upon  you  in  the  darkness, 
[141] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

I  will  share  my  kingdom  with  you, 
Ruler  shall  you  be  henceforward 
Of  the  Northwest-Wind,  Keewaydin, 
Of  the  home-wind,  the  Keewaydin." 

Thus  was  fought  that  famous  battle 
In  the  dreadful  days  of  Shah-shah, 
In  the  days  long  since  departed, 
In  the  kingdom  of  the  West- Wind. 
Still  the  hunter  sees  its  traces 
Scattered  far  o'er  hill  and  valley; 
Sees  the  giant  bulrush  growing 
By  the  ponds  and  water-courses, 
Sees  the  masses  of  the  Wawbeek 
Lying  still  in  every  valley. 

Homeward  now  went  Hiawatha; 
Pleasant  was  the  landscape  round  him, 
Pleasant  was  the  air  above  him, 
For  the  bitterness  of  anger 
Had  departed  wholly  from  him, 
From  his  brain  the  thought  of  vengeance, 
From  his  heart  the  burning  fever. 

Only  once  his  pace  he  slackened, 
Only  once  he  paused  or  halted, 
Paused  to  purchase  heads  of  arrows 
Of  the  ancient  Arrow-maker, 
In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs, 
[142] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Where  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha 
Flash  and  gleam  among  the  oak-trees, 
Laugh  and  leap  into  the  valley. 

There  the  ancient  Arrow-maker 
Made  his  arrow-heads  of  sandstone, 
Arrow-heads  of  chalcedony, 
Arrow-heads  of  flint  and  jasper, 
Smoothed  and  sharpened  at  the  edges, 
Hard  and  polished,  keen  and  costly. 

With  him  dwelt  his  dark-eyed  daughter, 
Wayward  as  the  Minnehaha, 
With  her  moods  of  shade  and  sunshine, 
Eyes  that  smiled  and  frowned  alternate, 
Feet  as  rapid  as  the  river, 
Tresses  flowing  like  the  water, 
And  as  musical  a  laughter; 
And  he  named  her  from  the  river, 
From  the  water-fall  he  named  her, 
Minnehaha,  Laughing  Water. 

Was  it  then  for  heads  of  arrows, 
Arrow-heads  of  chalcedony, 
Arrow-heads  of  flint  and  jasper, 
That  my  Hiawatha  halted 
In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs? 

Was  it  not  to  see  the  maiden, 
See  the  face  of  Laughing  Water, 
[i43l 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Peeping  from  behind  the  curtain, 

Hear  the  rustling  of  her  garments 

From  behind  the  waving  curtain, 

As  one  sees  the  Minnehaha 

Gleaming,  glancing  through  the  branches, 

As  one  hears  the  Laughing  Water 

From  behind  its  screen  of  branches? 

Who  shall  say  what  thoughts  and  visions 
Fill  the  fiery  brains  of  young  men  ? 
Who  shall  say  what  dreams  of  beauty 
Filled  the  heart  of  Hiawatha? 
All  he  told  to  old  Nokomis, 
When  he  reached  the  lodge  at  sunset, 
Was  the  meeting  with  his  father, 
Was  the  fight  with  Mudjekeewis; 
Not  a  word  he  said  of  arrows, 
Not  a  word  of  Laughing  Water. 


YOU  shall  hear  how  Hiawatha 
Prayed  and  fasted  in  the  forest, 
Not  for  greater  skill  in  hunting, 
Not  for  greater  craft  in  fishing, 
Not  for  triumphs  in  the  battle, 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  renown  among  the  warriors 
But  for  profit  of  the  people, 
For  advantage  of  the  nations. 

First  he  built  a  lodge  for  fasting, 
Built  a  wigwam  in  the  forest, 
By  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water, 
In  the  blithe  and  pleasant  Spring-time, 
In  the  Moon  of  Leaves  he  built  it, 
And,  with  dreams  and  visions  many, 
Seven  whole  days  and  nights  he  fasted. 

On  the  first  day  of  his  fasting 
Through  the  leafy  woods  he  wandered; 
Saw  the  deer  start  from  the  thicket, 
Saw  the  rabbit  in  his  burrow, 
Heard  the  pheasant,  Bena,  drumming, 
Heard  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo, 
Rattling  in  his  hoard  of  acorns, 
Saw  the  pigeon,  the  Omeme, 
Building  nests  among  the  pine-trees, 
And  in  flocks  the  wild  goose,  Wawa, 
Flying  to  the  fen-lands  northward, 
Whirring,  wailing  far  above  him. 
"Master  of  Life!"  he  cried,  desponding, 
"Must  our  lives  depend  on  these  things?' 

On  the  next  day  of  his  fasting 
By  the  river's  brink  he  wandered, 
[i45l 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Through  the  Muskoday,  the  meadow, 
Saw  the  wild  rice,  Mahnomonee, 
Saw  the  blueberry,  Meenahga, 
And  the  strawberry,  Odahmin, 
And  the  gooseberry,  Shahbomin, 
And  the  grape-vine,  Bemahgut, 
Trailing  o'er  the  alder-branches, 
Filling  all  the  air  with  fragrance ! 
"Master  of  Life!"  he  cried,  desponding, 
"Must  our  lives  depend  on  these  things?' 

On  the  third  day  of  his  fasting 
By  the  lake  he  sat  and  pondered, 
By  the  still,  transparent  water ; 
Saw  the  sturgeon,  Nahma,  leaping, 
Scattering  drops  like  beads  of  wampum, 
Saw  the  yellow  perch,  the  Sahwa, 
Like  a  sunbeam  in  the  water, 
Saw  the  pike,  the  Maskenozha, 
And  the  herring,  Okahahwis, 
And  the  Shawgashee,  the  craw-fish ! 
"Master  of  Life!"  he  cried,  desponding, 
"Must  our  lives  depend  on  these  things?' 

On  the  fourth  day  of  his  fasting 
In  his  lodge  he  lay  exhausted ; 
From  his  couch  of  leaves  and  branches, 
Gazing  with  half-open  eyelids, 
[146] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Full  of  shadowy  dreams  and  visions, 
On  the  dizzy,  swimming  landscape, 
On  the  gleaming  of  the  water, 
On  the  splendor  of  the  sunset. 

And  he  saw  a  youth  approaching, 
Dressed  in  garments  green  and  yellow 
Coming  through  the  purple  twilight, 
Through  the  splendor  of  the  sunset; 
Plumes  of  green  bent  o'er  his  forehead, 
And  his  hair  was  soft  and  golden. 

Standing  at  the  open  doorway, 
Long  he  looked  at  Hiawatha, 
Looked  with  pity  and  compassion 
On  his  wasted  form  and  features, 
And,  in  accents  like  the  sighing 
Of  the  South- Wind  in  the  tree-tops, 
Said  he,  "O  my  Hiawatha! 
All  your  prayers  are  heard  in  heaven, 
For  you  pray  not  like  the  others ; 
Not  for  greater  skill  in  hunting, 
Not  for  greater  craft  in  fishing, 
Not  for  triumph  in  the  battle, 
Nor  renown  among  the  warriors, 
But  for  profit  of  the  people, 
For  advantage  of  the  nations. 

"From  the  Master  of  Life  descending, 
[147] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

I,  the  friend  of  man,  Mondamin, 
Come  to  warn  you  and  instruct  you, 
How  by  struggle  and  by  labor 
You  shall  gain  what  you  have  prayed  for. 
Rise  up  from  your  bed  of  branches, 
Rise,  O  youth,  and  wrestle  with  me!" 

Faint  with  famine,  Hiawatha 
Started  from  his  bed  of  branches, 
From  the  twilight  of  his  wigwam 
Forth  into  the  bush  of  sunset 
Came,  and  wrestled  with  Mondamin ; 
At  his  touch  he  felt  new  courage 
Throbbing  in  his  brain  and  bosom, 
Felt  new  life  and  hope  and  vigor 
Run  through  every  nerve  and  fibre. 

So  they  wrestled  there  together 
In  the  glory  of  the  sunset, 
And  the  more  they  strove  and  struggled, 
Stronger  still  grew  Hiawatha; 
Till  the  darkness  fell  around  them, 
And  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
From  her  haunts  among  the  fen-lands, 
Gave  a  cry  of  lamentation, 
Gave  a  scream  of  pain  and  famine. 

'Tis  enough!"  then  said  Mondamin, 
Smiling  upon  Hiawatha, 
[148] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"But  to-morrow,  when  the  sun  sets, 
I  will  come  again  to  try  you." 
And  he  vanished,  and  was  seen  not; 
Whether  sinking  as  the  rain  sinks, 
Whether  rising  as  the  mists  rise, 
Hiawatha  saw  not,  knew  not, 
Only  saw  that  he  had  vanished, 
Leaving  him  alone  and  fainting, 
With  the  misty  lake  below  him, 
And  the  reeling  stars  above  him. 

On  the  morrow  and  the  next  day, 
When  the  sun  through  heaven  descending, 
Like  a  red  and  burning  cinder 
From  the  hearth  of  the  Great  Spirit, 
Fell  into  the  western  waters, 
Came  Mondamin  for  the  trial, 
For  the  strife  with  Hiawatha; 
Came  as  silent  as  the  dew  comes. 
From  the  empty  air  appearing, 
Into  empty  air  returning, 
Taking  shape  when  earth  it  touches, 
But  invisible  to  all  men 
In  its  coming  and  its  going. 

Thrice  they  wrestled  there  together 
In  the  glory  of  the  sunset, 
Till  the  darkness  fell  around  them, 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Till  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
From  her  haunts  among  the  fen-lands, 
Uttered  her  loud  cry  of  famine, 
And  Mondamin  paused  to  listen. 

Tall  and  beautiful  he  stood  there, 
In  his  garments  green  and  yellow ; 
To  and  fro  his  plumes  above  him 
Waved  and  nodded  with  his  breathing, 
And  the  sweat  of  the  encounter 
Stood  like  drops  of  dew  upon  him. 

And  he  cried,  "O  Hiawatha! 
Bravely  have  you  wrestled  with  me, 
Thrice  have  wrestled  stoutly  with  me, 
And  the  Master  of  Life  who  sees  us, 
He  will  give  to  you  the  triumph!" 

Then  he  smiled  and  said:    "To-morrow 
Is  the  last  day  of  your  conflict, 
Is  the  last  day  of  your  fasting. 
You  will  conquer  and  o'ercome  me; 
Make  a  bed  for  me  to  lie  in, 
Where  the  rain  may  fall  upon  me, 
Where  the  sun  may  come  and  warm  me ; 
Strip  these  garments,  green  and  yellow, 
Strip  this  nodding  plumage  from  me, 
Lay  me  in  the  earth,  and  make  it 
Soft  and  loose  and  light  above  me. 
[150] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"Let  no  hand  disturb  my  slumber, 
Let  no  weed  nor  worm  molest  me, 
Let  not  Kahgahgee,  the  raven, 
Come  to  haunt  me  and  molest  me, 
Only  come  yourself  to  watch  me, 
Till  I  wake,  and  start,  and  quicken, 
Till  I  leap  into  the  sunshine." 

And  thus  saying,  he  departed; 
Peacefully  slept  Hiawatha, 
But  he  heard  the  Wawonaissa, 
Heard  the  whippoorwill  complaining, 
Perched  upon  his  lonely  wigwam; 
Heard  the  rushing  Sebowisha, 
Heard  the  rivulet  rippling  near  him, 
Talking  to  the  darksome  forest; 
Heard  the  sighing  of  the  branches, 
As  they  lifted  and  subsided 
At  the  passing  of  the  night-wind, 
Heard  them,  as  one  hears  in  slumber 
Far-off  murmurs,  dreamy  whispers : 
Peacefully  slept  Hiawatha. 

On  the  morrow  came  Nokomis, 
On  the  seventh  day  of  his  fasting, 
Came  with  food  for  Hiawatha, 
Came  imploring  and  bewailing, 
Lest  his  hunger  should  o'ercome  him, 
[151] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 
Lest  his  fasting  should  be  fatal. 

But  he  tasted  not  and  touched  not, 
Only  said  to  her,  "Nokomis, 
Wait  until  the  sun  is  setting, 
Till  the  darkness  falls  around  us, 
Till  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
Crying  from  the  desolate  marshes, 
Tells  us  that  the  day  is  ended." 

Homeward  weeping  went  Nokomis, 
Sorrowing  for  her  Hiawatha, 
Fearing  lest  his  strength  should  fail  him, 
Lest  his  fasting  should  be  fatal. 
He  meanwhile  sat  weary  waiting 
For  the  coming  of  Mondamin, 
Till  the  shadows,  pointing  eastward, 
Lengthened  over  field  and  forest, 
Till  the  sun  dropped  from  the  heaven, 
Floating  on  the  waters  westward, 
As  a  red  leaf  in  the  Autumn 
Falls  and  floats  upon  the  water, 
Falls  and  sinks  into  its  bosom. 

And  behold !  the  young  Mondamin, 
With  his  soft  and  shining  tresses, 
With  his  garments  green  and  yellow, 
With  his  long  and  glossy  plumage, 
Stood  and  beckoned  at  the  doorway. 
[152] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  as  one  in  slumber  walking, 
Pale  and  haggard,  but  undaunted, 
From  the  wigwam  Hiawatha 
Came  and  wrestled  with  Mondamin. 

Round  about  him  spun  the  landscape, 
Sky  and  forest  reeled  together, 
And  his  strong  heart  leaped  within  him, 
As  the  sturgeon  leaps  and  struggles 
In  a  net  to  break  its  meshes. 
Like  a  ring  of  fire  around  him 
Blazed  and  flared  the  red  horizon, 
And  a  hundred  suns  seemed  looking 
At  the  combat  of  the  wrestlers. 

Suddenly  upon  the  greensward 
All  alone  stood  Hiawatha, 
Panting  with  his  wild  exertion, 
Palpitating  with  the  struggle; 
And  before  him,  breathless,  lifeless, 
Lay  the  youth,  with  hair  disheveled, 
Plumage  torn,  and  garments  tattered, 
Dead  he  lay  there  in  the  sunset. 

And  victorious  Hiawatha 
Made  the  grave  as  he  commanded, 
Stripped  the  garments  from  Mondamin, 
Stripped  his  tattered  plumage  from  him, 
Laid  him  in  the  earth,  and  made  it 
[i53] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Soft  and  loose  and  light  above  him; 
And  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
From  the  melancholy  moorlands, 
Gave  a  cry  of  lamentation, 
Gave  a  cry  of  pain  and  anguish ! 

Homeward  then  went  Hiawatha 
To  the  lodge  of  old  Nokomis, 
And  the  seven  days  of  his  fasting 
Were  accomplished  and  completed. 
But  the  place  was  not  forgotten 
Where  he  wrestled  with  Mondamin; 
Nor  forgotten  nor  neglected 
Was  the  grave  where  lay  Mondamin, 
Sleeping  in  the  rain  and  sunshine, 
Where  his  scattered  plumes  and  garments 
Faded  in  the  rain  and  sunshine. 

Day  by  day  did  Hiawatha 
Go  to  wait  and  watch  beside  it; 
Kept  the  dark  mold  soft  above  it, 
Kept  it  clean  from  weeds  and  insects, 
Drove  away,  with  scoffs  and  shoutings, 
Kahgahgee,  the  king  of  ravens. 

Till  at  length  a  small  green  feather 
From  the  earth  shot  slowly  upward, 
Then  another  and  another, 
And  before  the  Summer  ended 
[i54] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Stood  the  maize  in  all  its  beauty, 
With  its  shining  robes  about  it, 
And  its  long,  soft,  yellow  tresses; 
And  in  rapture  Hiawatha 
Cried  aloud,  "It  is  Mondamin ! 
Yes,  the  friend  of  man,  Mondamin!" 

Then  he  called  to  old  Nokomis 
And  lagoo,  the  great  boaster, 
Showed  them  where  the  maize  was  growing, 
Told  them  of  his  wondrous  vision, 
Of  his  wrestling  and  his  triumph, 
Of  this  new  gift  to  the  nations, 
Which  should  be  their  food  forever. 

And  still  later,  when  the  Autumn 
Changed  the  long,  green  leaves  to  yellow, 
And  the  soft  and  juicy  kernels 
Grew  like  wampum  hard  and  yellow, 
Then  the  ripened  ears  he  gathered, 
Stripped  the  withered  husks  from  off  them, 
As  he  once  had  stripped  the  wrestler, 
Gave  the  first  Feast  of  Mondamin, 
And  made  known  unto  the  people 
This  new  gift  of  the  Great  Spirit. 


[i55] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

VI 

HIAWATHA'S  FRIENDS 

TWO  good  friends  had  Hiawatha 
Singled  out  from  all  the  others, 
Bound  to  him  in  closest  union, 
And  to  whom  he  gave  the  right  hand 
Of  his  heart,  in  joy  and  sorrow; 
Chibiabos,  the  musician, 
And  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasind 

Straight  between  them  ran  the  pathway, 
Never  grew  the  grass  upon  it; 
Singing  birds,  that  utter  falsehoods, 
Story-tellers,  mischief-makers, 
Found  no  eager  ear  to  listen, 
Could  not  breed  ill-will  between  them, 
For  they  kept  each  other's  counsel, 
Spake  with  naked  hearts  together, 
Pondering  much  and  much  contriving 
How  the  tribes  of  men  might  prosper. 

Most  beloved  by  Hiawatha 
Was  the  gentle  Chibiabos, 
He  the  best  of  all  musicians, 
He  the  sweetest  of  all  singers. 
Beautiful  and  childlike  was  he, 
[156] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Brave  as  man  is,  soft  as  woman, 
Pliant  as  a  wand  of  willow, 
Stately  as  a  deer  with  antlers. 

When  he  sang,  the  village  listened; 
All  the  warriors  gathered  round  him, 
All  the  women  came  to  hear  him; 
Now  he  stirred  their  souls  to  passion, 
Now  he  melted  them  to  pity. 

From  the  hollow  reeds  he  fashioned 
Flutes  so  musical  and  mellow, 
That  the  brook,  the  Sebowisha, 
Ceased  to  murmur  in  the  woodland, 
That  the  wood-birds  ceased  from  singing, 
And  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo, 
Ceased  his  chatter  in  the  oak-tree, 
And  the  rabbit,  the  Wabasso, 
Sat  upright  to  look  and  listen. 

Yes,  the  brook,  the  Sebowisha, 
Pausing,  said,  "O  Chibiabos, 
Teach  my  waves  to  flow  in  music, 
Softly  as  your  words  in  singing!" 

Yes,  the  bluebird,  the  Owaissa, 
Envious,  said,  "O  Chibiabos, 
Teach  me  tones  as  wild  and  wayward, 
Teach  me  songs  as  full  of  frenzy!" 

Yes,  the  Opechee,  the  robin, 
[i57l 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Joyous,  said,  "O  Chibiabos, 

Teach  me  songs  as  full  of  gladness!" 

And  the  whippoorwill,  Wawonaissa, 
Sobbing,  said,  "O  Chibiabos, 
Teach  me  tones  as  melancholy, 
Teach  me  songs  as  full  of  sadness!" 

All  the  many  sounds  of  nature 
Borrowed  sweetness  from  his  singing; 
All  the  hearts  of  men  were  softened 
By  the  pathos  of  his  music ; 
For  he  sang  of  peace  and  freedom, 
Sang  of  beauty,  love,  and  longing; 
Sang  of  death,  and  life  undying 
In  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed, 
In  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
In  the  land  of  the  Hereafter. 

Very  dear  to  Hiawatha 
Was  the  gentle  Chibiabos, 
He  the  best  of  all  musicians, 
He  the  sweetest  of  all  singers; 
For  his  gentleness  he  loved  him, 
And  the  magic  of  his  singing. 

Dear,  too,  unto  Hiawatha 
Was  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasind, 
He  the  strongest  of  all  mortals, 
He  the  mightiest  among  many; 
[158] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

For  his  very  strength  he  loved  him, 
For  his  strength  allied  to  goodness. 

Idle  in  his  youth  was  Kwasind, 
Very  listless,  dull,  and  dreamy, 
Never  played  with  other  children, 
Never  fished  and  never  hunted, 
Not  like  other  children  was  he ; 
But  they  saw  that  much  he  fasted, 
Much  his  Manito  entreated, 
Much  besought  his  Guardian  Spirit. 

"Lazy  Kwasind!"  said  his  mother, 
"In  my  work  you  never  help  me! 
In  the  Summer  you  are  roaming 
Idly  in  the  fields  and  forests ; 
In  the  Winter  you  are  cowering 
O'er  the  firebrands  in  the  wigwam! 
In  the  coldest  days  of  Winter 
I  must  break  the  ice  for  fishing; 
With  my  nets  you  never  help  me ! 
At  the  door  my  nets  are  hanging, 
Dripping,  freezing  with  the  water : 
Go  and  wring  them,  Yenadizze ! 
Go  and  dry  them  in  the  sunshine!" 

Slowly,  from  the  ashes,  Kwasind 
Rose,  but  made  no  angry  answer; 
From  the  lodge  went  forth  in  silence, 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Took  the  nets,  that  hung  together, 
Dripping,  freezing  at  the  doorway, 
Like  a  wisp  of  straw  he  wrung  them, 
Like  a  wisp  of  straw  he  broke  them, 
Could  not  wring  them  without  breaking, 
Such  the  strength  was  in  his  fingers. 

"Lazy  Kwasind!"  said  his  father, 
"In  the  hunt  you  never  help  me; 
Every  bow  you  touch  is  broken, 
Snapped  asunder  every  arrow; 
Yet  come  with  me  to  the  forest, 
You  shall  bring  the  hunting  homeward." 

Down  a  narrow  pass  they  wandered, 
Where  a  brooklet  led  them  onward, 
Where  the  trail  of  deer  and  bison 
Marked  the  soft  mud  on  the  margin, 
Till  they  found  all  further  passage 
Shut  against  them,  barred  securely 
By  the  trunks  of  trees  uprooted, 
Lying  lengthwise,  lying  crosswise, 
And  forbidding  further  passage. 

"We  must  go  back,"  said  the  old  man, 
"O'er  these^logs  we  cannot  clamber ; 
Not  a  woodchuck  could  get  through  them, 
Not  a  squirrel  clamber  o'er  them!" 
And  straightway  his  pipe  he  lighted, 
[160] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  sat  down  to  smoke  and  ponder. 
But  before  his  pipe  was  finished, 
Lo !  the  path  was  cleared  before  him ; 
All  the  trunks  had  Kwasind  lifted, 
To  the  right  hand,  to  the  left  hand, 
Shot  the  pine-trees  swift  as  arrows, 
Hurled  the  cedars  light  as  lances. 

"Lazy  Kwasind!"  said  the  young  men, 
As  they  sported  in  the  meadow ; 
"Why  stand  idly  looking  at  us, 
Leaning  on  the  rock  behind  you? 
Come  and  wrestle  with  the  others, 
Let  us  pitch  the  quoit  together!" 

Lazy  Kwasind  made  no  answer, 
To  their  challenge  made  no  answer, 
Only  rose,  and,  slowly  turning, 
Seized  the  huge  rock  in  his  fingers, 
Tore  it  from  its  deep  foundation, 
Poised  it  in  the  air  a  moment, 
Pitched  it  sheer  into  the  river, 
Sheer  into  the  swift  Pauwating, 
Where  it  still  is  seen  in  Summer. 

Once  as  down  that  foaming  river, 
Down  the  rapids  of  Pauwating, 
Kwasind  sailed  with  his  companions, 
In  the  stream  he  saw  a  beaver, 
[161] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Saw  Ahmeek,  the  King  of  Beavers, 
Struggling  with  the  rushing  currents} 
Rising,  sinking  in  the  water. 

Without  speaking,  without  pausing, 
Kwasind  leaped  into  the  river, 
Plunged  beneath  the  bubbling  surface, 
Through  the  whirlpools  chased  the  beaver, 
Followed  him  among  the  islands, 
Stayed  so  long  beneath  the  water, 
That  his  terrified  companions 
Cried,  "Alas!  good-bye  to  Kwasind! 
We  shall  never  more  see  Kwasind !" 
But  he  reappeared  triumphant, 
And  upon  his  shining  shoulders 
Brought  the  beaver,  dead  and  dripping 
Brought  the  King  of  all  the  Beavers. 

And  these  two,  as  I  have  told  you, 
Were  the  friends  of  Hiawatha, 
Chibiabos,  the  musician, 
And  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasind. 
Long  they  lived  in  peace  together, 
Spake  with  naked  hearts  together, 
Pondering  much  and  much  contriving 
How  the  tribes  of  men  might  prosper. 


[162] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

VII 

HIAWATHA'S  SAILING 

£  £  f^\  I VE  me  of  your  bark,  O  Birch-Tree ! 

V^J"   Of  your  yellow  bark,  O  Birch-Tree ! 
Growing  by  the  rushing  river, 
Tall  and  stately  in  the  valley! 
I  a  light  canoe  will  build  me, 
Build  a  swift  Cheemaun  for  sailing, 
That  shall  float  upon  the  river, 
Like  a  yellow  leaf  in  Autumn, 
Like  a  yellow  water-lily! 

"Lay  aside  your  cloak,  O  Birch-Tree! 
Lay  aside  your  white-skin  wrapper, 
For  the  Summer-time  is  coming, 
And  the  sun  is  warm  in  heaven, 
And  you  need  no  white-skin  wrapper!" 

Thus  aloud  cried  Hiawatha 
In  the  solitary  forest, 
By  the  rushing  Taquamenaw, 
When  the  birds  were  singing  gayly, 
In  the  Moon  of  Leaves  were  singing, 
And  the  sun,  from  sleep  awaking, 
Started  up  and  said,  "Behold  me! 
Gheezis,  the  great  Sun,  behold  me!" 
[163] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  the  tree  with  all  its  branches 
Rustled  in  the  breeze  of  morning, 
Saying  with  a  sigh  of  patience, 
"Take  my  cloak,  O  Hiawatha!" 

With  his  knife  the  tree  he  girdled; 
Just  beneath  its  lowest  branches, 
Just  above  the  roots,  he  cut  it, 
Till  the  sap  came  oozing  outward; 
Down  the  trunk  from  top  to  bottom, 
Sheer  he  cleft  the  bark  asunder, 
With  a  wooden  wedge  he  raised  it, 
Stripped  it  from  the  trunk  unbroken. 

"Give  me  of  your  boughs,  O  Cedar! 
Of  your  strong  and  pliant  branches, 
My  canoe  to  make  more  steady, 
Make  more  strong  and  firm  beneath  me!'v 

Through  the  summit  of  the  Cedar, 
Went  a  sound,  a  cry  of  horror, 
Went  a  murmur  of  resistance; 
But  it  whispered,  bending  downward, 
"Take  my  boughs,  O  Hiawatha!" 

Down  he  hewed  the  boughs  of  cedar, 
Shaped  them  straightway  to  a  framework, 
Like  two  bows  he  formed  and  shaped  them, 
Like  two  bended  bows  together. 

"Give  me  of  your  roots,  O  Tamarack! 
[164] 


GIVE  ME  OF  YOUR  ROOTS,  O  TAMARACK!'  "—Page  164- 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Of  your  fibrous  roots,  O  Larch-Tree ! 
My  canoe  to  bind  together. 
So  to  bind  the  ends  together, 
That  the  water  may  not  enter, 
That  the  river  may  not  wet  me!" 

And  the  Larch,  with  all  its  fibres, 
Shivered  in  the  air  of  morning, 
Touched  his  forehead  with  its  tassels, 
Said,  with  one  long  sigh  of  sorrow, 
"Take  them  all,  O  Hiawatha!" 

From  the  earth  he  tore  the  fibres, 
Tore  the  tough  roots  of  the  Larch-Tree, 
Closely  sewed  the  bark  together, 
Bound  it  closely  to  the  framework. 

Give  me  of  your  balm,  O  Fir-Tree ! 
Of  your  balsam  and  your  resin, 
So  to  close  the  seams  together 
That  the  water  may  not  enter 
That  the  river  may  not  wet  me!" 

And  the  Fir-Tree,  tall  and  sombre, 
Sobbed  through  all  its  robes  of  darkness, 
Rattled  like  a  shore  with  pebbles, 
Answered  wailing,  answered  weeping, 
"Take  my  balm,  O  Hiawatha!" 

And  he  took  the  tears  of  balsam, 
Took  the  resin  of  the  Fir-Tree, 
[165] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Smeared  therewith  each  seam  and  fissure, 
Made  each  crevice  safe  from  water. 

"Give  me  of  your  quills,  O  Hedgehog ! 
All  your  quills,  O  Kagh,  the  Hedgehog ! 
I  will  make  a  necklace  of  them, 
Make  a  girdle  for  my  beauty. 
And  two  stars  to  deck  her  bosom!" 
From  a  hollow  tree  the  Hedgehog 
With  his  sleepy  eyes  looked  at  him, 
Shot  his  shining  quills,  like  arrows, 
Saying,  with  a  drowsy  murmur, 
Through  the  tangle  of  his  whiskers, 
"Take  my  quills,  O  Hiawatha!" 

From  the  ground  the  quills  he  gathered, 
All  the  little  shining  arrows, 
Stained  them  red  and  blue  and  yellow, 
With  the  juice  of  roots  and  berries; 
Into  his  canoe  he  wrought  them, 
Round  its  waist  a  shining  girdle, 
Round  its  bows  a  gleaming  necklace, 
On  its  breast  two  stars  resplendent. 

Thus  the  Birch  Canoe  was  builded 
In  the  valley,  by  the  river, 
In  the  bosom  of  the  forest ; 
And  the  forest's  life  was  in  it, 
All  its  mystery  and  its  magic, 
[166] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

All  the  lightness  of  the  birch-tree, 
All  the  toughness  of  the  cedar, 
All  the  larch's  supple  sinews, 
And  it  floated  on  the  river 
Like  a  yellow  leaf  in  Autumn 
Like  a  yellow  water-lily. 

Paddles  none  had  Hiawatha, 
Paddles  none  he  had  or  needed, 
For  his  thoughts  as  paddles  served  him, 
And  his  wishes  served  to  guide  him; 
Swift  or  slow  at  will  he  glided, 
Veered  to  right  or  left  at  pleasure. 

Then  he  called  aloud  to  Kwasind, 
To  his  friend,  the  strong  man,  Kwasind, 
Saying,  "Help  me  clear  this  river 
Of  its  sunken  logs  and  sand-bars." 

Straight  into  the  river  Kwasind 
Plunged  as  if  he  were  an  otter, 
Dived  as  if  he  were  a  beaver, 
Stood  up  to  his  waist  in  water, 
To  his  arm-pits  in  the  river, 
Swam  and  shouted  in  the  river, 
Tugged  at  sunken  logs  and  branches, 
With  his  hands  he  scooped  the  sand-bars, 
With  his  feet  the  ooze  and  tangle. 

And  thus  sailed  my  Hiawatha 
[167] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Down  the  rushing  Taquamenaw, 
Sailed  through  all  its  bends  and  windings, 
Sailed  through  all  its  deeps  and  shallows, 
While  his  friend,  the  strong  man,  Kwasind, 
Swam  the  deeps,  the  shallows  waded. 
Up  and  down  the  river  went  they, 
In  and  out  among  its  islands, 
Cleared  its  bed  of  root  and  sand-bar, 
Dragged  the  dead  trees  from  its  channel, 
Made  its  passage  safe  and  certain, 
Made  a  pathway  for  the  people, 
From  its  springs  among  the  mountains, 
To  the  water  of  Pauwating, 
To  the  bay  of  Taquamenaw. 

VIII 

HIAWATHA'S  FISHING 

FORTH  upon  the  Gitche  Gumee, 
On  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water, 
With  his  fishing-line  of  cedar, 
Of  the  twisted  bark  of  cedar, 
Forth  to  catch  the  sturgeon  Nahma, 
Mishe-Nahma,  King  of  Fishes, 
In  his  birch  canoe  exulting 
All  alone  went  Hiawatha. 
[1681 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Through  the  clear,  transparent  water 
He  could  see  the  fishes  swimming 
Far  down  in  the  depths  below  him; 
See  the  yellow  perch,  the  Sahwa, 
Like  a  sunbeam  in  the  water, 
See  the  Shawgashee,  the  craw-fish, 
Like  a  spider  on  the  bottom, 
On  the  white  and  sandy  bottom. 

At  the  stern  sat  Hiawatha, 
With  his  fishing-line  of  cedar; 
In  his  plumes  the  breeze  of  morning 
Played  as  in  the  hemlock  branches; 
On  the  bows,  with  tail  erected, 
Sat  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo; 
In  his  fur  the  breeze  of  morning 
Played  as  in  the  prairie  grasses. 

On  the  white  sand  of  the  bottom 
Lay  the  monster  Mishe-Nahma, 
Lay  the  sturgeon,  King  of  Fishes; 
Through  his  gills  he  breathed  the  water 
With  his  fins  he  fanned  and  winnowed, 
With  his  tail  he  swept  the  sand-floor. 

There  he  lay  in  all  his  armor; 
On  each  side  a  shield  to  guard  him, 
Plates  of  bone  upon  his  forehead, 
Down  his  sides  and  back  and  shoulders 
[169] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Plates  of  bone  with  spines  projecting! 
Painted  was  he  with  his  war-paints, 
Stripes  of  yellow,  red,  and  azure, 
Spots  of  brown  and  spots  of  sable ; 
And  he  lay  there  on  the  bottom, 
Fanning  with  his  fins  of  purple, 
As  above  him  Hiawatha 
In  his  birch  canoe  came  sailing, 
With  his  fishing-line  of  cedar. 

"Take  my  bait,"  cried  Hiawatha, 
Down  into  the  depths  beneath  him, 
"Take  my  bait,  O  Sturgeon,  Nahma! 
Come  up  from  below  the  water, 
Let  us  see  which  is  the  stronger!" 
And  he  dropped  his  line  of  cedar 
Through  the  clear,  transparent  water, 
Waited  vainly  for  an  answer, 
Long  sat  waiting  for  an  answer, 
And  repeating  loud  and  louder, 
"Take  my  bait,  O  King  of  Fishes !" 

Quiet  lay  the  sturgeon,  Nahma, 
Fanning  slowly  in  the  water, 
Looking  up  at  Hiawatha, 
Listening  to  his  call  and  clamor, 
His  unnecessary  tumult, 
Till  he  wearied  of  the  shouting; 
[170] 


'TAKE  MY  BAIT,  o  KING  OF  FISHES!'  " — Page  170 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  he  said  to  the  Kenozha, 
To  the  pike,  the  Maskenozha, 
"Take  the  bait  of  this  rude  fellow, 
Break  the  line  of  Hiawatha!" 
In  his  fingers  Hiawatha 
Felt  the  loose  line  jerk  and  tighten; 
As  he  drew  it  in,  it  tugged  so 
That  the  birch  canoe  stood  endwise, 
Like  a  birch  log  in  the  water, 
With  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo, 
Perched  and  frisking  on  the  summit. 

Full  of  scorn  was  Hiawatha 
When  he  saw  the  fish  rise  upward, 
Saw  the  pike,  the  Maskenozha, 
Coming  nearer,  nearer  to  him, 
And  he  shouted  through  the  water, 
"Esa!  esa!  shame  upon  you! 
You  are  but  the  pike,  Kenozha, 
You  are  not  the  fish  I  wanted, 
You  are  not  the  King  of  Fishes!" 

Reeling  downward  to  the  bottom 
Sank  the  pike  in  great  confusion, 
And  the  mighty  sturgeon,  Nahma, 
Said  to  Ugudwash,  the  sun-fish, 
"Take  the  bait  of  this  great  boaster, 
Break  the  line  of  Hiawatha!" 
[171] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Slowly  upward,  wavering,  gleaming 
Like  a  white  moon  in  the  water, 
Rose  the  Ugudwash,  the  sun-fish, 
Seized  the  line  of  Hiawatha, 
Swung  with  all  his  weight  upon  it, 
Made  a  whirlpool  in  the  water, 
Whirled  the  birch  canoe  in  circles, 
Round  and  round  in  gurgling  eddies, 
Till  the  circles  in  the  water 
Reached  the  far-off  sandy  beaches, 
Till  the  water-flags  and  rushes 
Nodded  on  the  distant  margins. 

But  when  Hiawatha  saw  him 
Slowly  rising  through  the  water, 
Lifting  his  great  disc  of  whiteness, 
Loud  he  shouted  in  derision, 
"Esa,  esa!  shame  upon  you! 
You  are  Ugudwash,  the  sun-fish, 
You  are  not  the  fish  I  wanted; 
You  are  not  the  King  of  Fishes !" 
Wavering  downward,  white  and  ghastly, 
Sank  the  Ugudwash,  the  sun-fish, 
And  again  the  sturgeon,  Nahma, 
Heard  the  shout  of  Hiawatha, 
Heard  his  challenge  of  defiance. 
The  unnecessary  tumult, 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Ringing  far  across  the  water. 

From  the  white  sand  of  the  bottom 
Up  he  rose  with  angry  gesture, 
Quivering  in  each  nerve  and  fibre, 
Clashing  all  his  plates  of  armor, 
Gleaming  bright  with  all  his  war-paint; 
In  his  wrath  he  darted  upward, 
Flashing  leaped  into  the  sunshine, 
Opened  his  great  jaws,  and  swallowed 
Both  canoe  and  Hiawatha. 

Down  into  that  darksome  cavern 
Plunged  the  headlong  Hiawatha, 
As  a  log  on  some  black  river 
Shoots  and  plunges  down  the  rapids, 
Found  himself  in  utter  darkness, 
Groped  about  in  helpless  wonder, 
Till  he  felt  a  great  heart  beating, 
Throbbing  in  that  utter  darkness. 

And  he  smote  it  in  his  anger, 
With  his  fist,  the  heart  of  Nahma, 
Felt  the  mighty  King  of  Fishes 
Shudder  through  each  nerve  and  fibre, 
Heard  the  water  gurgle  round  him 
As  he  leaped  and  staggered  through  it, 
Sick  at  heart,  and  faint  and  weary. 

Crosswise  then  did  Hiawatha, 
[i73] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Drag  his  birch-canoe  for  safety, 
Lest  from  out  the  jaws  of  Nahma, 
In  the  turmoil  and  confusion, 
Forth  he  might  be  hurled  and  perish. 
And  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo, 
Frisked  and  chattered  very  gayly, 
Toiled  and  tugged  with  Hiawatha 
Till  the  labor  was  completed. 

Then  said  Hiawatha  to  him, 
"O  my  little  friend,  the  squirrel, 
Bravely  have  you  toiled  to  help  me; 
Take  the  thanks  of  Hiawatha, 
And  the  name  which  now  he  gives  you; 
For  hereafter  and  forever 
Boys  shall  call  you  Adjidaumo, 
Tail-in-air  the  boys  shall  call  you!" 

And  again  the  sturgeon,  Nahma, 
Gasped  and  quivered  in  the  water, 
Then  was  still,  and  drifted  landward 
Till  he  grated  on  the  pebbles, 
Till  the  listening  Hiawatha 
Heard  him  grate  upon  the  margin, 
Felt  him  strand  upon  the  pebbles, 
Knew  that  Nahma,  King  of  Fishes, 
Lay  there  dead  upon  the  margin. 

Then  he  heard  a  clang  and  flapping, 
[i74l 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

As  of  many  wings  assembling, 
Heard  a  screaming  and  confusion, 
As  of  birds  of  prey  contending, 
Saw  a  gleam  of  light  above  him, 
Shining  through  the  ribs  of  Nahma, 
Saw  the  glittering  eyes  of  sea-gulls, 
Of  Kayoshk,  the  sea-gulls,  peering, 
Gazing  at  him  through  the  opening, 
Heard  them  saying  to  each  other, 
'Tis  our  brother,  Hiawatha!" 
And  he  shouted  from  below  them, 
Cried  exulting  from  the  caverns : 
"O  ye  sea-gulls !    O  my  brothers ! 
I  have  slain  the  sturgeon,  Nahma; 
Make  the  rifts  a  little  larger, 
With  your  claws  the  openings  widen, 
Set  me  free  from  this  dark  prison, 
And  henceforward  and  forever 
Men  shall  speak  of  your  achievements, 
Calling  you  Kayoshk,  the  sea-gulls, 
Yes,  Kayoshk,  the  Noble  Scratchers!" 

And  the  wild  and  clamorous  sea-gulls 
Toiled  with  beak  and  claws  together, 
Made  the  rifts  and  openings  wider 
In  the  mighty  ribs  of  Nahma, 
And  from  peril  and  from  prison, 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

From  the  body  of  the  sturgeon, 
From  the  peril  of  the  water, 
Was  released  my  Hiawatha. 

He  was  standing  near  his  wigwam, 
On  the  margin  of  the  water, 
And  he  called  to  old  Nokomis, 
Called  and  beckoned  to  Nokomis, 
Pointed  to  the  sturgeon,  Nahma, 
Lying  lifeless  on  the  pebbles, 
With  the  sea-gulls  feeding  on  him. 

"I  have  slain  the  Mishe-Nahma, 
Slain  the  King  of  Fishes!"  said  he; 
"Look!  the  sea-gulls  feed  upon  him, 
Yes,  my  friends  Kayoshk,  the  sea-gulls ; 
Drive  them  not  away,  Nokomis, 
They  have  saved  me  from  great  peril 
In  the  body  of  the  sturgeon, 
Wait  until  their  meal  is  ended, 
Till  their  craws  are  full  with  feasting, 
Till  they  homeward  fly,  at  sunset, 
To  their  nests  among  the  marshes ; 
Then  bring  all  your  pots  and  kettles, 
And  make  oil  for  us  in  Winter." 

And  she  waited  till  the  sun  set, 
Till  the  pallid  moon,  the  Night-sun, 
Rose  above  the  tranquil  water, 
[176] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Till  Kayoshk,  the  sated  sea-gulls, 
From  their  banquet  rose  with  clamor, 
And  across  the  fiery  sunset 
Winged  their  way  to  far-off  islands, 
To  their  nests  among  the  rushes. 

To  his  sleep  went  Hiawatha, 
And  Nokomis  to  her  labor, 
Toiling  patient  in  the  moonlight, 
Till  the  sun  and  moon  changed  places, 
Till  the  sky  was  red  with  sunrise, 
And  Kayoshk,  the  hungry  sea-gulls, 
Came  back  from  the  reedy  islands, 
Clamorous  for  their  morning  banquet. 

Three  whole  days  and  nights  alternate 
Old  Nokomis  and  the  sea-gulls 
Stripped  the  oily  flesh  of  Nahma, 
Till  the  waves  washed  through  the  rib-bones, 
Till  the  sea-gulls  came  no  longer, 
And  upon  the  sands  lay  nothing 
But  the  skeleton  of  Nahma. 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

IX 

HIAWATHA  AND  THE  PEARL-FEATHER 

ON  the  shores  of  Gitche  Gumee, 
Of  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water, 
Stood  Nokomis,  the  old  woman, 
Pointing  with  her  finger  westward, 
O'er  the  water  pointing  westward, 
To  the  purple  clouds  of  sunset. 

Fiercely  the  red  sun  descending 
Burned  his  way  along  the  heavens, 
Set  the  sky  on  fire  behind  him, 
As  war-parties,  when  retreating, 
Burn  the  prairies  on  their  war-trail ; 
And  the  moon,  the  Night-sun,  eastward, 
Suddenly  starting  from  his  ambush, 
Followed  fast  those  bloody  footprints, 
Followed  in  that  fiery  war-trail, 
With  its  glare  upon  his  features. 

And  Nokomis,  the  old  woman, 
Pointing  with  her  finger  westward, 
Spake  these  words  to  Hiawatha: 

"Yonder  dwells  the  great  Pearl-Feather, 
Megissogwon,  the  Magician, 
Manito  of  Wealth  and  Wampum, 
[178] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Guarded  by  his  fiery  serpents, 
Guarded  by  the  black  pitch-water. 
You  can  see  his  fiery  serpents, 
The  Kenabeek,  the  great  serpents. 
Coiling,  playing  in  the  water; 
You  can  see  the  black  pitch-water 
Stretching  far  away  beyond  them, 
To  the  purple  clouds  of  sunset! 

"He  it  was  who  slew  my  father, 
By  his  wicked  wiles  and  cunning, 
When  he  from  the  moon  descended, 
When  he  came  on  earth  to  seek  me 
He,  the  mightiest  of  Magicians, 
Sends  the  fever  from  the  marshes, 
Sends  the  pestilential  vapors, 
Sends  the  poisonous  exhalations, 
Sends  the  white  fog  from  the  fen-lands, 
Sends  disease  and  death  among  us ! 

"Take  your  bow,  O  Hiawatha, 
Take  your  arrows,  jasper-headed, 
Take  your  war-club,  Puggawaugun, 
And  your  mittens,  Minjekahwun, 
And  your  birch-canoe  for  sailing, 
And  the  oil  of  Mishe-Nahma, 
So  to  smear  its  sides,  that  swiftly 
You  may  pass  the  black  pitch-water; 
[i79] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Slay  this  merciless  magician, 
Save  the  people  from  the  fever 
That  he  breathes  across  the  fen-lands, 
And  avenge  my  father's  murder!" 

Straightway  then  my  Hiawatha 
Armed  himself  with  all  his  war-gear, 
Launched  his  birch-canoe  for  sailing; 
With  his  palm  its  sides  he  patted, 
Said  with  glee,  "Cheemaun,  my  darling, 
O  my  Birch-Canoe !  leap  forward, 
Where  you  see  the  fiery  serpents, 
Where  you  see  the  black  pitch-water !" 

Forward  leaped  Cheemaun  exulting, 
And  the  noble  Hiawatha 
Sang  his  war-song  wild  and  woeful, 
And  above  him  the  war-eagle, 
The  Keneu,  the  great  war-eagle. 
Master  of  all  fowls  with  feathers, 
Screamed  and  hurtled  through  the  heavens. 

Soon  he  reached  the  fiery  serpents, 
The  Kenabeek,  the  great  serpents, 
Lying  huge  upon  the  water, 
Sparkling,  rippling  in  the  water, 
Lying  coiled  across  the  passage, 
With  their  blazing  crests  uplifted, 
Breathing  fiery  fogs  and  vapors, 
[180] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

So  that  none  could  pass  beyond  them. 

But  the  fearless  Hiawatha 
Cried  aloud,  and  spake  in  this  wise: 
"Let  me  pass  my  way,  Kenabeek, 
Let  me  go  upon  my  journey!" 
And  they  answered,  hissing  fiercely, 
With  their  fiery  breath  made  answer, 
"Back,  go  back!    O  Shaugodaya! 
Back  to  old  Nokomis,  Faint-heart!" 

Then  the  angry  Hiawatha 
Raised  his  mighty  bow  of  ash-tree, 
Seized  his  arrows,  jasper-headed, 
Shot  them  fast  among  the  serpents; 
Every  twanging  of  the  bow-string 
Was  a  war-cry  and  a  death-cry, 
Every  whizzing  of  an  arrow 
Was  a  death-song  of  Kenabeek. 

Weltering  in  the  bloody  water, 
Dead  lay  all  the  fiery  serpents, 
And  among  them  Hiawatha 
Harmless  sailed,  and  cried  exulting: 
"Onward,  O  Cheemaun,  my  darling! 
Onward  to  the  black  pitch-water!" 

Then  he  took  the  oil  of  Nahma, 
And  the  bows  and  sides  anointed, 
Smeared  them  well  with  oil,  that  swiftly 
[181] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

He  might  pass  the  black  pitch-water, 

All  night  long  he  sailed  upon  it, 
Sailed  upon  that  sluggish  water, 
Covered  with  its  mould  of  ages, 
Black  with  rotting  water-rushes, 
Rank  with  flags  and  leaves  of  lilies, 
Stagnant,  lifeless,  dreary,  dismal, 
Lighted  by  the  shimmering  moonlight, 
And  by  will-o'-the-wisps  illumined, 
Fires  by  ghosts  of  dead  men  kindled, 
In  their  weary  night-encampments. 

All  the  air  was  white  with  moonlight, 
All  the  water  black  with  shadow, 
And  around  him  the  Suggema, 
The  mosquito,  sang  their  war-song, 
And  the  fire-flies,  Wah-wah-taysee, 
Waved  their  torches  to  mislead  him; 
And  the  bull-frog,  the  Dahinda, 
Thrust  his  head  into  the  moonlight, 
Fixed  his  yellow  eyes  upon  him, 
Sobbed  and  sank  beneath  the  surface ; 
And  anon  a  thousand  whistles, 
Answered  over  all  the  fen-lands, 
And  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
Far  off  on  the  reedy  margin, 

Heralded  the  hero's  coming. 

[182] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Westward  thus  fared  Hiawatha, 
Toward  the  realm  of  Megissogwon, 
Towards  the  land  of  the  Pearl-Feather, 
Till  the  level  moon  stared  at  him, 
In  his  face  stared  pale  and  haggard, 
Till  the  sun  was  hot  behind  him, 
Till  it  burned  upon  his  shoulders, 
And  before  him  on  the  upland 
He  could  see  the  Shining  Wigwam 
Of  the  Manito  of  Wampum, 
Of  the  mightiest  of  Magicians. 

Then  once  more  Cheemaun  he  patted, 
To  his  birch-canoe  said,  "Onward!" 
And  it  stirred  in  all  its  fibres, 
And  with  one  great  bound  of  triumph 
Leaped  across  the  water  lilies, 
Leaped  through  tangled  flags  and  rushes, 
And  upon  the  beach  beyond  them 
Dry-shod  landed  Hiawatha. 

Straight  he  took  his  bow  of  ash-tree, 
One  end  on  the  sand  he  rested, 
With  his  knee  he  pressed  the  middle, 
Stretched  the  faithful  bow-string  tighter. 
Took  an  arrow,  jasper-headed, 
Shot  it  at  the  Shining  Wigwam, 
Sent  it  singing  as  a  herald, 
[183] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

As  a  bearer  of  his  message, 

Of  his  challenge  loud  and  lofty: 

"Come  forth  from  your  lodge,  Pearl-Feather! 

Hiawatha  waits  your  coming!" 

Straightway  from  the  Shining  Wigwam 
Came  the  mighty  Megissogwon, 
Tall  of  stature,  broad  of  shoulder, 
Dark  and  terrible  in  aspect, 
Clad  from  head  to  foot  in  wampum, 
Armed  with  all  his  warlike  weapons, 
Painted  like  the  sky  of  morning, 
Streaked  with  crimson,  blue,  and  yellow, 
Crested  with  great  eagle-feathers, 
Streaming  upward,  streaming  outward. 

"Well  I  know  you,  Hiawatha!" 
Cried  he  in  a  voice  of  thunder, 
In  a  tone  of  loud  derision. 
"Hasten  back,  O  Shaugodaya ! 
Hasten  back  among  the  women. 
Back  to  old  Nokomis,  Faint-heart, 
I  will  slay  you  as  you  stand  there, 
As  of  old  I  slew  her  father!" 

But  my  Hiawatha  answered, 
Nothing  daunted,  fearing  nothing: 
"Big  words  do  not  smite  like  war  clubs, 
Boastful  breath  is  not  a  bow-string, 
[184] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Taunts  are  not  so  sharp  as  arrows, 
Deeds  are  better  things  than  words  are, 
Actions  mightier  than  boastings!" 

Then  began  the  greatest  battle 
That  the  sun  had  ever  looked  on, 
That  the  war-birds  ever  witnessed. 
All  a  Summer's  day  it  lasted, 
From  the  sunrise  to  the  sunset; 
For  the  shafts  of  Hiawatha, 
Harmless  hit  the  shirt  of  wampum, 
Harmless  fell  the  blows  he  dealt  it 
With  his  mittens,  Minjekahwun, 
Harmless  fell  the  heavy  war-club; 
It  could  dash  the  rocks  asunder, 
But  it  could  not  break  the  meshes 
Of  that  magic  shirt  of  wampum. 

Till  at  sunset  Hiawatha, 
Leaning  on  his  bow  of  ash-tree, 
Wounded,  weary,  and  desponding, 
With  his  mighty  war-club  broken, 
With  his  mittens  torn  and  tattered, 
And  three  useless  arrows  only, 
Paused  to  rest  beneath  a  pine-tree, 
From  whose  branches  trailed  the  mosses, 
And  whose  trunk  was  coated  over 
With  the  Dead-man's  Moccasin-leather, 
[185] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

With  the  fungus  white  and  yellow. 
Suddenly  from  the  boughs  above  him 
Sang  the  Mama,  the  woodpecker : 
"Aim  your  arrows,  Hiawatha, 
At  the  head  of  Megissogwon, 
Strike  the  tuft  of  hair  upon  it, 
At  their  roots  the  long  black  tresses; 
There  alone  can  he  be  wounded!" 

Winged  with  feathers,  tipped  with  jasper, 
Swift  flew  Hiawatha's  arrow, 
Just  as  Megissogwon,  stooping, 
Raised  a  heavy  stone  to  throw  it. 
Full  upon  the  crown  it  struck  him, 
At  the  roots  of  his  long  tresses, 
And  he  reeled  and  staggered  forward, 
Plunging  like  a  wounded  bison, 
Yes,  like  Pezhekee,  the  bison, 
When  the  snow  is  on  the  prairie. 

Swifter  flew  the  second  arrow, 
In  the  pathway  of  the  other, 
Piercing  deeper  than  the  other, 
Wounding  sorer  than  the  other, 
And  the  knees  of  Megissogwon 
Shook  like  windy  reeds  beneath  him, 
Bent  and  trembled  like  the  rushes. 
But  the  third  and  latest  arrow 
[186] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Swiftest  flew,  and  wounded  sorest, 
And  the  mighty  Megissogwon 
Saw  the  fiery  eyes  of  Pauguk, 
Saw  the  eyes  of  Death  glare  at  him, 
Heard  his  voice  call  in  the  darkness; 
At  the  feet  of  Hiawatha 
Lifeless  lay  the  great  Pearl-Feather, 
Lay  the  mightiest  of  Magicians. 

Then  the  grateful  Hiawatha 
Called  the  Mama,  the  woodpecker, 
From  his  perch  among  the  branches 
Of  the  melancholy  pine-tree, 
And,  in  honor  of  his  service, 
Stained  with  blood  the  tuft  of  feathers 
On  the  little  head  of  Mama; 
Even  to  this  day  he  wears  it, 
Wears  the  tuft  of  crimson  feathers, 
As  a  symbol  of  his  service. 

Then  he  stripped  the  shirt  of  wampum 
From  the  back  of  Megissogwon, 
As  a  trophy  of  the  battle, 
As  a  signal  of  his  conquest. 
On  the  shore  he  left  the  body, 
Half  on  land  and  half  in  water, 
In  the  sand  his  feet  were  buried, 
And  his  face  was  in  the  water. 
[187] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  above  him,  wheeled  and  clamored 
The  Keneu,  the  great  war-eagle, 
Sailing  round  in  narrower  circles, 
Hovering  nearer,  nearer,  nearer. 

From  the  wigwam  Hiawatha 
Bore  the  wealth  of  Megissogwon, 
All  his  wealth  of  skins  and  wampum, 
Furs  of  bison  and  of  beaver, 
Furs  of  sable  and  of  ermine, 
Wampum  belts  and  strings  and  pouches, 
Quivers  wrought  with  beads  of  wampum, 
Filled  with  arrows,  silver-headed. 

Homeward  then  he  sailed  exulting, 
Homeward  through  the  black  pitch-water, 
Homeward  through  the  weltering  serpents, 
With  the  trophies  of  the  battle, 
With  a  shout  and  song  of  triumph. 

On  the  shore  stood  old  Nokomis, 
On  the  shore  stood  Chibiabos, 
And  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasind, 
Waiting  for  the  hero's  coming, 
Listening  to  his  song  of  triumph. 
And  the  people  of  the  village 
Welcomed  him  with  songs  and  dances, 
Made  a  joyous  feast,  and  shouted, 
"Honor  be  to  Hiawatha! 
[188] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

He  has  slain  the  great  Pearl-Feather, 
Slain  the  mightiest  of  Magicians, 
Him,  who  sent  the  fiery  fever, 
Sent  the  white  fog  from  the  fen-lands, 
Sent  disease  and  death  among  us!" 

Ever  dear  to  Hiawatha 
Was  the  memory  of  Mama ! 
And  in  token  of  his  friendship, 
As  a  mark  of  his  remembrance, 
He  adorned  and  decked  his  pipe-stem 
With  the  crimson  tuft  of  feathers, 
With  the  blood-red  crest  of  Mama. 
But  the  wealth  of  Megissogwon, 
All  the  trophies  of  the  battle, 
He  divided  with  his  people, 
Shared  it  equally  among  them. 


X 

HIAWATHA'S  WOOING 


£  £    A    S  unto  the  bow  the  cord  is, 

±    \    So  unto  the  man  is  woman, 
Though  she  bends  him,  she  obeys  him, 
Though  she  draws  him,  yet  she  follows, 
Useless  each  without  the  other!" 
Thus  the  youthful  Hiawatha 
[189] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Said  within  himself  and  pondered, 
Much  perplexed  by  various  feelings, 
Listless,  longing,  hoping,  fearing, 
Dreaming  still  of  Minnehaha, 
Of  the  lovely  Laughing  Water, 
In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs. 
"Wed  a  maiden  of  your  people," 
Warning  said  the  old  Nokomis ; 
"Go  not  eastward,  go  not  westward, 
For  a  stranger,  whom  we  know  not ! 
Like  a  fire  upon  the  hearth-stone 
Is  a  neighbor's  homely  daughter, 
Like  the  starlight  or  the  moonlight 
Is  the  handsomest  of  strangers!" 

Thus  dissuading  spake  Nokomis, 
And  my  Hiawatha  answered 
Only  this :    "Dear  old  Nokomis, 
Very  pleasant  is  the  firelight, 
But  I  like  the  starlight  better, 
Better  do  I  like  the  moonlight!" 

Gravely  then  said  old  Nokomis : 
"Bring  not  here  an  idle  maiden, 
Bring  not  here  a  useless  woman, 
Hands  unskilful,  feet  unwilling; 
Bring  a  wife  with  nimble  fingers, 
Heart  and  hand  that  move  together, 
[  190] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Feet  that  run  on  willing  errands !" 

Smiling  answered  Hiawatha : 
"In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs 
Lives  the  Arrow-maker's  daughter, 
Minnehaha,  Laughing  Water, 
Handsomest  of  all  the  women. 
I  will  bring  her  to  your  wigwam, 
She  shall  run  upon  your  errands, 
Be  your  starlight,  moonlight,  firelight, 
Be  the  sunlight  of  my  people !" 

Still  dissuading  said  Nokomis : 
"Bring  not  to  my  lodge  a  stranger 
From  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs! 
Very  fierce  are  the  Dacotahs, 
Often  is  there  war  between  us, 
There  are  feuds  yet  unf orgotten, 
Wounds  that  ache  and  still  may  open !" 

Laughing  answered  Hiawatha  : 
"For  that  reason,  if  no  other, 
Would  I  wed  the  fair  Dacotah, 
That  our  tribes  might  be  united, 
That  old  feuds  might  be  forgotten, 
And  old  wounds  be  healed  forever!" 

Thus  departed  Hiawatha 
To  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs, 
To  the  land  of  handsome  women; 
[191] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Striding  over  moor  and  meadow, 
Through  interminable  forests, 
Through  uninterrupted  silence. 

With  his  moccasins  of  magic, 
At  each  stride  a  mile  he  measured; 
Yet  the  way  seemed  long  before  him, 
And  his  heart  outran  his  footsteps ; 
And  he  journeyed  without  resting, 
Till  he  heard  the  cataract's  thunder, 
Heard  the  falls  of  Minnehaha, 
Calling  to  him  through  the  silence. 
"Pleasant  is  the  sound!"  he  murmured, 
"Pleasant  is  the  voice  that  calls  me!" 

On  the  outskirts  of  the  forest, 
'Twixt  the  shadow  and  the  sunshine, 
Herds  of  fallow  deer  were  feeding, 
But  they  saw  not  Hiawatha ; 
To  his  bow  he  whispered,  "Fail  not!" 
To  his  arrow  whispered,  "Swerve  not!" 
Sent  it  singing  on  its  errand, 
To  the  red  heart  of  the  roebuck; 
Threw  the  deer  across  his  shoulder, 
And  sped  forward  without  pausing. 

At  the  doorway  of  his  wigwam 
Sat  the  ancient  Arrow-maker, 
In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs, 
[192] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Making  arrow-heads  of  jasper, 

Arrow-heads  of  chalcedony. 

At  his  side,  in  all  her  beauty, 

Sat  the  lovely  Minnehaha, 

Sat  his  daughter,  Laughing  Water, 

Plaiting  mats  of  flags  and  rushes; 

Of  the  past  the  old  man's  thoughts  were, 

And  the  maiden's  of  the  future. 

He  was  thinking,  as  he  sat  there, 
Of  the  days  when  with  such  arrows, 
He  had  struck  the  deer  and  bison, 
On  the  Muskoday,  the  meadow ; 
Shot  the  wild  goose,  flying  southward 
On  the  wing,  the  clamorous  Wawa; 
Thinking  of  the  great  war-parties, 
How  they  came  to  buy  his  arrows, 
Could  not  fight  without  his  arrows. 
Ah,  no  more  such  noble  warriors 
Could  be  found  on  earth  as  they  were ! 
Now  the  men  were  all  like  women, 
Only  used  their  tongues  for  weapons! 

She  was  thinking  of  a  hunter, 
From  another  tribe  and  country, 
Young  and  tall  and  very  handsome, 
Who  one  morning,  in  the  Spring-time, 
Came  to  buy  her  father's  arrows, 
[193] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Sat  and  rested  in  the  wigwam, 
Lingered  long  about  the  doorway, 
Looking  back  as  he  departed. 
She  had  heard  her  father  praise  him, 
Praise  his  courage  and  his  wisdom; 
Would  he  come  again  for  arrows 
To  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha? 
On  the  mat  her  hands  lay  idle, 
And  her  eyes  were  very  dreamy. 

Through  their  thoughts  they  heard  a  footstep, 
Heard  a  rustling  in  the  branches, 
And  with  glowing  cheek  and  forehead, 
With  the  deer  upon  his  shoulders, 
Suddenly  from  out  the  woodlands 
Hiawatha  stood  before  them. 

Straight  the  ancient  Arrow-maker 
Looked  up  gravely  from  his  labor, 
Laid  aside  the  unfinished  arrow, 
Bade  him  enter  at  the  doorway, 
Saying,  as  he  rose  to  meet  him, 
"Hiawatha,  you  are  welcome!" 

At  the  feet  of  Laughing  Water 
Hiawatha  laid  his  burden, 
Threw  the  red  deer  from  his  shoulders ; 
And  the  maiden  looked  up  at  him, 
Looked  up  from  her  mat  of  rushes, 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Said  with  gentle  look  and  accent, 
"You  are  welcome,  Hiawatha!" 

Very  spacious  was  the  wigwam, 
Made  of  deer-skin  dressed  and  whitened. 
With  the  Gods  of  the  Dacotahs 
Drawn  and  painted  on  its  curtains 
And  so  tall  the  doorway,  hardly 
Hiawatha  stooped  to  enter, 
Hardly  touched  his  eagle-feathers 
As  he  entered  at  the  doorway. 

Then  uprose  the  Laughing  Water, 
From  the  ground  fair  Minnehaha 
Laid  aside  her  mat  unfinished, 
Brought  forth  food  and  set  before  them, 
Water  brought  them  from  the  brooklet, 
Gave  them  food  in  earthen  vessels, 
Gave  them  drink  in  bowls  of  basswood, 
Listened  while  the  guest  was  speaking, 
Listened  while  her  father  answered 
But  not  once  her  lips  she  opened, 
Not  a  single  word  she  uttered. 

Yes,  as  in  a  dream  she  listened 
To  the  words  of  Hiawatha, 
As  he  talked  of  old  Nokomis, 
Who  had  nursed  him  in  his  childhood, 
As  he  told  of  his  companions, 
[i95] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Chibiabos,  the  musician, 

And  the  very  strong  man,  Kwasind, 

And  of  happiness  and  plenty 

In  the  land  of  the  Ojibways, 

In  the  pleasant  land  and  peaceful. 

"After  many  years  of  warfare, 
Many  years  of  strife  and  bloodshed, 
There  is  peace  between  the  Ojibways 
And  the  tribes  of  the  Dacotahs." 
Thus  continued  Hiawatha, 
And  then  added,  speaking  slowly, 
"That  this  peace  may  last  forever 
And  our  hands  be  clasped  more  closely, 
And  our  hearts  be  more  united, 
Give  me  as  my  wife  this  maiden, 
Minnehaha,  Laughing  Water, 
Loveliest  of  Dacotah  women!" 

And  the  ancient  Arrow-maker 
Paused  a  moment  ere  he  answered, 
Smoked  a  little  while  in  silence, 
Looked  at  Hiawatha  proudly, 
Fondly  looked  at  Laughing  Water, 
And  made  answer  very  gravely : 
"Yes,  if  Minnehaha  wishes; 
Let  your  heart  speak,  Minnehaha!" 

And  the  lovely  Laughing  Water 
[196] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Seemed  more  lovely,  as  she  stood  there, 
Neither  willing  nor  reluctant, 
As  she  went  to  Hiawatha, 
Softly  took  the  seat  beside  him, 
While  she  said,  and  blushed  to  say  it, 
"I  will  follow  you,  my  husband!" 

This  was  Hiawatha's  wooing! 
Thus  it  was  he  won  the  daughter 
Of  the  ancient  Arrow-maker, 
In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs! 

From  the  wigwam  he  departed, 
Leading  with  him  Laughing  Water ; 
Hand  in  hand  they  went  together, 
Through  the  woodland  and  the  meadow, 
Left  the  old  man  standing  lonely 
At  the  doorway  of  his  wigwam, 
Heard  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha 
Calling  to  them  from  the  distance, 
Crying  to  them  from  afar  off, 
'Tare  thee  well,  O  Minnehaha!" 

And  the  ancient  Arrow-maker 
Turned  again  unto  his  labor, 
Sat  down  by  his  sunny  doorway, 
Murmuring  to  himself,  and  saying : 
"Thus  it  is  our  daughters  leave  us, 
Those  we  love,  and  those  who  love  us ! 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Just  when  they  have  learned  to  help  us, 
When  we  are  old  and  lean  upon  them, 
Comes  a  youth  with  flaunting  feathers, 
With  his  flute  of  reeds,  a  stranger 
Wanders  piping  through  the  village, 
Beckons  to  the  fairest  maiden, 
And  she  follows  where  he  leads  her, 
Leaving  all  things  for  the  stranger!" 

Pleasant  was  the  journey  homeward, 
Through  interminable  forests, 
Over  meadow,  over  mountain, 
Over  river,  hill,  and  hollow. 
Short  it  seemed  to  Hiawatha, 
Though  they  journeyed  very  slowly, 
Though  his  pace  he  checked  and  slackened 
To  the  steps  of  Laughing  Water. 

Over  wide  and  rushing  rivers 
In  his  arms  he  bore  the  maiden; 
Light  he  thought  her  as  a  feather, 
As  the  plume  upon  his  head-gear; 
Cleared  the  tangled  pathway  for  her, 
Bent  aside  the  swaying  branches, 
Made  at  night  a  lodge  of  branches, 
And  a  bed  with  boughs  of  hemlock, 
And  a  fire  before  the  doorway 
With  the  dry  cones  of  the  pine-tree. 
[198] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

All  the  traveling  winds  went  with  them, 
O'er  the  meadow,  through  the  forest; 
All  the  stars  of  night  looked  at  them, 
Watched  with  sleepless  eyes  their  slumber; 
From  his  ambush  in  the  oak-tree 
Peeped  the  squirrel,  Adjidaumo, 
Watched  with  eager  eyes  the  lovers; 
And  the  rabbit,  the  Wabasso, 
Scampered  from  the  path  before  them, 
Peering,  peeping  from  his  burrow, 
Sat  erect  upon  his  haunches, 
Watched  with  curious  eyes  the  lovers. 

Pleasant  was  the  journey  homeward! 
All  the  birds  sang  loud  and  sweetly 
Songs  of  happiness  and  heart's-ease; 
Sang  the  bluebird,  the  Owaissa, 
"Happy  are  you,  Hiawatha, 
Having  such  a  wife  to  love  you!" 
Sang  the  Opechee,  the  robin, 
"Happy  are  you,  Laughing  Water, 
Having  such  a  noble  husband!" 

From  the  sky  the  sun  benignant 
Looked  upon  them  through  the  branches, 
Saying  to  them,  "O  my  children, 
Love  is  sunshine,  hate  is  shadow, 
Life  is  checkered  shade  and  sunshine, 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Rule  by  love,  O  Hiawatha!" 

From  the  sky  the  moon  looked  at  them, 
Filled  the  lodge  with  mystic  splendors, 
Whispered  to  them,  "O  my  children, 
Day  is  restless,  night  is  quiet, 
Man  imperious,  woman  feeble ; 
Half  is  mine,  although  I  follow ; 
Rule  by  patience,  Laughing  Water!" 

Thus  it  was  they  journeyed  homeward; 
Thus  it  was  that  Hiawatha 
To  the  lodge  of  old  Nokomis 
Brought  the  moonlight,  starlight,  firelight, 
Brought  the  sunshine  of  his  people, 
Minnehaha,  Laughing  Water, 
Handsomest  of  all  the  women 
In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs, 
In  the  land  of  handsome  women. 

XI 

HIAWATHA'S  WEDDING  FEAST 

YOU  shall  hear  how  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
How  the  handsome  Yenadizze 
Danced  at  Hiawatha's  wedding; 
How  the  gentle  Chibiabos, 
He  the  sweetest  of  musicians, 
[  200  ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Sang  his  songs  of  love  and  longing; 
How  lagoo,  the  great  boaster, 
He  the  marvelous  story-teller, 
Told  his  tales  of  strange  adventure, 
That  the  feast  might  be  more  joyous, 
That  the  time  might  pass  more  gayly, 
And  the  guests  be  more  contented. 

Sumptuous  was  the  feast  Nokomis 
Made  at  Hiawatha's  wedding; 
All  the  bowls  were  made  of  basswood, 
White  and  polished  very  smoothly, 
All  the  spoons  of  horn  of  bison, 
Black  and  polished  very  smoothly. 

She  had  sent  through  all  the  village 
Messengers  with  wands  of  willow, 
As  a  sign  of  invitation, 
As  a  token  of  the  feasting; 
And  the  wedding  guests  assembled, 
Clad  in  all  their  richest  raiment, 
Robes  of  fur  and  belts  of  wampum, 
Splendid  with  their  paint  and  plumage, 
Beautiful  with  beads  and  tassels. 

First  they  ate  the  sturgeon,  Nahma, 
And  the  pike,  the  Maskenozha, 
Caught  and  cooked  by  old  Nokomis ; 
Then  on  pemican  they  feasted, 

[201  ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Pemican  and  buffalo  marrow, 
Haunch  of  deer  and  hump  of  bison, 
Yellow  cakes  of  the  Mondamin, 
And  the  wild  rice  of  the  river. 

But  the  gracious  Hiawatha, 
And  the  lovely  Laughing  Water, 
And  the  careful  old  Nokomis, 
Tasted  not  the  food  before  them, 
Only  waited  on  the  others, 
Only  served  their  guests  in  silence. 

And  when  all  the  guests  had  finished, 
Old  Nokomis,  brisk  and  busy, 
From  an  ample  pouch  of  otter, 
Filled  the  red-stone  pipes  for  smoking 
With  tobacco  from  the  South-land, 
Mixed  with  bark  of  the  red  willow, 
And  with  herbs  and  leaves  of  fragrance. 

Then  she  said,  "O  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Dance  for  us  your  merry  dances, 
Dance  the  Beggar's  Dance  to  please  us, 
That  the  feast  may  be  more  joyous, 
That  the  time  may  pass  more  gayly, 
And  our  guests  be  more  contented!" 

Then  the  handsome  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
He  the  idle  Yenadizze, 
He  the  merry  mischief-maker, 
[  202  ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Whom  the  people  called  the  Storm-Fool, 
Rose  among  the  guests  assembled. 

Skilled  was  he  in  sports  and  pastimes, 
In  the  merry  dance  of  snow-shoes, 
In  the  play  of  quoits  and  ball-play; 
Skilled  was  he  in  games  of  hazard, 
In  all  games  of  skill  and  hazard, 
Pugasaing,  the  Bowl  and  Counters, 
Kuntassoo,  the  Game  of  Plum-stones. 

Though  the  warriors  called  him  Faint-Heart, 
Called  him  coward,  Shaugodaya, 
Idler,  gambler,  Yenadizze, 
Little  heeded  he  their  jesting, 
Little  cared  he  for  their  insults, 
For  the  women  and  the  maidens 
Loved  the  handsome  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 

He  was  dressed  in  shirt  of  doeskin, 
White  and  soft,  and  fringed  with  ermine, 
All  inwrought  with  beads  of  wampum; 
He  was  dressed  in  deer-skin  leggings, 
Fringed  with  hedgehog  quills  and  ermine, 
And  in  moccasins  of  buck-skin, 
Thick  with  quills  and  beads  embroidered. 
On  his  head  were  plumes  of  swan's  down, 
On  his  heels  were  tails  of  foxes, 
In  one  hand  a  fan  of  feathers, 
[203] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  a  pipe  was  in  the  other. 

Barred  with  streaks  of  red  and  yellow, 
Streaks  of  blue  and  bright  vermilion, 
Shone  the  face  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 
From  his  forehead  fell  his  tresses, 
Smooth,  and  parted  like  a  woman's, 
Shining  bright  with  oil,  and  plaited, 
Hung  with  braids  of  scented  grasses, 
As  among  the  guests  assembled, 
To  the  sound  of  flutes  and  singing, 
To  the  sound  of  drums  and  voices, 
Rose  the  handsome  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
And  began  his  mystic  dances. 

First  he  danced  a  solemn  measure, 
Very  slow  in  step  and  gesture, 
In  and  out  among  the  pine-trees, 
Through  the  shadows  and  the  sunshine, 
Treading  softly  like  a  panther. 
Then  more  swiftly  and  still  swifter, 
Whirling,  spinning  round  in  circles, 
Leaping  o'er  the  guests  assembled, 
Eddying  round  and  round  the  wigwam, 
Till  the  leaves  went  whirling  with  him, 
Till  the  dust  and  wind  together 
Swept  in  eddies  round  about  him. 

Then  along  the  sandy  margin 
[204] 


HE  BEGAN  HIS  MYSTIC  DANCES — Page  204 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Of  the  lake,  the  Big-Sea-Water, 
On  he  sped  with  frenzied  gestures, 
Stamped  upon  the  sand,  and  tossed  it 
Wildly  in  the  air  around  him ; 
Till  the  wind  became  a  whirlwind, 
Till  the  sand  was  blown  and  sifted 
Like  great  snowdrifts  o'er  the  landscape, 
Heaping  all  the  shores  with  Sand  Dunes, 
Sand  Hills  of  the  Nagow  Wudjoo! 

Thus  the  merry  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Danced  his  Beggar's  Dance  to  please  them, 
And,  returning,  sat  down  laughing 
There  among  the  guests  assembled, 
Sat  and  fanned  himself  serenely 
With  his  fan  of  turkey-feathers. 

Then  they  said  to  Chibiabos, 
To  the  friend  of  Hiawatha, 
To  the  sweetest  of  all  singers, 
To  the  best  of  all  musicians, 
"Sing  to  us,  O  Chibiabos ! 
Songs  of  love  and  songs  of  longing, 
That  the  feast  may  be  more  joyous, 
That  the  time  may  pass  more  gayly, 
And  our  guests  be  more  contented!" 

And  the  gentle  Chibiabos 
Sang  in  accents  sweet  and  tender, 
[205] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Sang  in  tones  of  deep  emotion, 
Songs  of  love  and  songs  of  longing; 
Looking  still  at  Hiawatha, 
Looking  at  fair  Laughing  Water, 
Sang  he  softly,  sang  in  this  wise : 

"Onaway!    Awake,  beloved! 
Thou  the  wild-flower  of  the  forest ! 
Thou  the  wild-bird  of  the  prairie ! 
Thou  with  eyes  so  soft  and  fawn-like ! 

"If  thou  only  lookest  at  me, 
I  am  happy,  I  am  happy, 
As  the  lilies  of  the  prairie, 
When  they  feel  the  dew  upon  them ! 

"Sweet  thy  breath  is  as  the  fragrance 
Of  the  wild-flowers  in  the  morning, 
As  their  fragrance  is  at  evening, 
In  the  Moon  when  leaves  are  falling. 

"Does  not  all  the  blood  within  me 
Leap  to  meet  thee,  leap  to  meet  thee, 
As  the  springs  to  meet  the  sunshine, 
In  the  Moon  when  nights  are  brightest4? 

"Onaway !  my  heart  sings  to  thee, 
Sings  with  joy  when  thou  art  near  me, 
As  the  sighing,  singing  branches 
In  the  pleasant  Moon  of  Strawberries ! 

"When  thou  art  not  pleased,  beloved, 
[206] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Then  my  heart  is  sad  and  darkened, 

As  the  shining  river  darkens 

When  the  clouds  drop  shadows  on  it. 

"When  thou  smilest,  my  beloved, 
Then  my  troubled  heart  is  brightened, 
As  in  sunshine  gleam  the  ripples 
That  the  cold  wind  makes  in  rivers. 

"Smiles  the  earth,  and  smile  the  waters, 
Smile  the  cloudless  skies  above  us, 
But  I  lose  the  way  of  smiling 
When  thou  art  no  longer  near  me ! 

"I  myself,  myself !  behold  me ! 
Blood  of  my  beating  heart,  behold  me ! 
O  awake,  awake,  beloved ! 
Onaway!  awake,  beloved!" 

Thus  the  gentle  Chibiabos 
Sang  his  song  of  love  and  longing 
And  lagoo,  the  great  boaster, 
He  the  marvelous  story-teller, 
He  the  friend  of  old  Nokomis, 
Jealous  of  the  sweet  musician, 
Jealous  of  the  applause  they  gave  him, 
Saw  in  all  the  eyes  around  him, 
Saw  in  all  their  looks  and  gestures, 
That  the  wedding  guests  assembled 
Longed  to  hear  his  pleasant  stories, 
[207] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

His  immeasurable  falsehoods. 

Very  boastful  was  lagoo ; 
Never  heard  he  an  adventure 
But  himself  had  met  a  greater; 
Never  any  deed  of  daring 
But  himself  had  done  a  bolder; 
Never  any  marvelous  story 
But  himself  could  tell  a  stranger. 

Would  you  listen  to  his  boasting, 
Would  you  only  give  him  credence, 
No  one  ever  shot  an  arrow 
Half  so  far  and  high  as  he  had ; 
Ever  caught  so  many  fishes, 
Ever  killed  so  many  reindeer, 
Ever  trapped  so  many  beavers ! 

None  could  run  so  fast  as  he  could, 
None  could  dive  so  deep  as  he  could, 
None  could  swim  so  far  as  he  could ; 
None  had  made  so  many  journeys, 
None  had  seen  so  many  wonders, 
As  this  wonderful  lagoo, 
As  this  marvelous  story-teller ! 

Thus  his  name  became  a  by-word 
And  a  jest  among  the  people; 
And  whene'er  a  boastful  hunter 
[208] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Praised  his  own  address  too  highly, 
Or  a  warrior,  home  returning, 
Talked  too  much  of  his  achievements, 
All  his  hearers  cried,  "lagoo! 
Here's  lagoo  come  among  us!" 

He  it  was  who  carved  the  cradle 
Of  the  little  Hiawatha, 
Carved  its  framework  out  of  linden, 
Bound  it  strong  with  reindeer  sinew; 
He  it  was  who  taught  him  later 
How  to  make  his  bows  and  arrows, 
How  to  make  the  bows  of  ash-tree. 
And  the  arrows  of  the  oak-tree. 
So  among  the  guests  assembled 
At  my  Hiawatha's  wedding 
Sat  lagoo,  old  and  ugly, 
Sat  the  marvelous  story-teller. 

And  they  said,  "O  good  lagoo, 
Tell  us  now  a  tale  of  wonder, 
Tell  us  of  some  strange  adventure, 
That  the  feast  may  be  more  joyous, 
That  the  time  may  pass  more  gayly, 
And  our  guests  be  more  contented!" 

And  lagoo  answered  straightway, 
"You  shall  hear  a  tale  of  wonder. 
[209] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

You  shall  hear  the  strange  adventures 

Of  Osseo,  the  Magician, 

From  the  Evening  Star  descended." 

XII 

THE  SON  OF  THE  EVENING  STAR 

CAN  it  be  the  sun  descending 
O'er  the  level  plain  of  water4? 
Or  the  Red  Swan  floating,  flying, 
Wounded  by  the  magic  arrow, 
Staining  all  the  waves  with  crimson, 
With  the  crimson  of  its  life-blood, 
Filling  all  the  air  with  splendor, 
With  the  splendor  of  its  plumage? 

Yes ;  it  is  the  sun  descending, 
Sinking  down  into  the  water; 
All  the  sky  is  stained  with  purple, 
All  the  water  flushed  with  crimson ! 
No ;  it  is  the  Red  Swan  floating, 
Diving  down  beneath  the  water; 
To  the  sky  its  wings  are  lifted, 
With  its  blood  the  waves  are  reddened ! 

Over  it  the  Star  of  Evening 
Melts  and  trembles  through  the  purple, 
Hangs  suspended  in  the  twilight. 
[210] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

No;  it  is  a  bead  of  wampum 
On  the  robes  of  the  Great  Spirit, 
As  he  passes  through  the  twilight, 
Walks  in  silence  through  the  heavens. 

This  with  joy  beheld  lagoo 
And  he  said  in  haste :    "Behold  it! 
See  the  sacred  Star  of  Evening! 
You  shall  hear  a  tale  of  wonder. 
Hear  the  story  of  Osseo, 
Son  of  the  Evening  Star,  Osseo ! 

"Once,  in  days  no  more  remembered, 
Ages  nearer  the  beginning, 
When  the  heavens  were  closer  to  us, 
And  the  Gods  were  more  familiar, 
In  the  North-land  lived  a  hunter, 
With  ten  young  and  comely  daughters, 
Tall  and  lithe  as  wands  of  willow; 
Only  Oweenee,  the  youngest, 
She  the  willful  and  the  wayward, 
She  the  silent,  dreamy  maiden, 
Was  the  fairest  of  the  sisters. 

"All  these  women  married  warriors, 
Married  brave  and  haughty  husbands; 
Only  Oweenee,  the  youngest, 
Laughed  and  flouted  all  her  lovers, 
All  her  young  and  handsome  suitors, 

[211] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  then  married  old  Osseo, 

Old  Osseo,  poor  and  ugly, 

Broken  with  age  and  weak  with  coughing, 

Always  coughing  like  a  squirrel. 

"Ah,  but  beautiful  within  him 
Was  the  Spirit  of  Osseo, 
From  the  Evening  Star  descended, 
Star  of  Evening,  Star  of  Woman, 
Star  of  tenderness  and  passion ! 
All  its  fire  was  in  his  bosom, 
All  its  beauty  in  his  spirit, 
All  its  mystery  in  his  being, 
All  its  splendor  in  his  language ! 

"And  her  lovers,  the  rejected, 
Handsome  men  with  belts  of  wampum, 
Handsome  men  with  paint  and  feathers, 
Pointed  at  her  in  derision, 
Followed  her  with  jest  and  laughter. 
But  she  said :     'I  care  not  for  you, 
Care  not  for  your  belts  of  wampum, 
Care  not  for  your  paint  and  feathers, 
I  am  happy  with  Osseo !' 

"Once  to  some  great  feast  invited, 
Through  the  damp  and  dusk  of  evening 
Walked  together  the  ten  sisters, 
Walked  together  with  their  husbands;     . 

[212] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Slowly  followed  old  Osseo, 
With  fair  Oweenee  beside  him; 
All  the  others  chatted  gayly, 
These  two  only  walked  in  silence. 

"At  the  western  sky  Osseo 
Gazed  intent,  as  if  imploring, 
Often  stopped  and  gazed  imploring 
At  the  trembling  Star  of  Evening, 
At  the  tender  Star  of  Woman; 
And  they  heard  him  murmur  softly, 
'Ah,  showain  nemeshin,  Nosa! 
Pity,  pity  me,  my  father!' 

"  'Listen!'  said  the  eldest  sister, 
'He  is  praying  to  his  father ! 
What  a  pity  that  the  old  man 
Does  not  stumble  in  the  pathway, 
Does  not  break  his  neck  by  falling!' 
And  they  laughed  till  all  the  forest 
Rang  with  their  unseemly  laughter. 

"On  their  pathway  through  the  woodlands 
Lay  an  oak,  by  storms  uprooted, 
Lay  the  great  trunk  of  an  oak-tree, 
Buried  half  in  leaves  and  mosses, 
Mouldering,  crumbling,  huge  and  hollow, 
And  Osseo  when  he  saw  it, 
Gave  a  shout,  a  cry  of  anguish, 
[213] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Leaped  into  its  yawning  cavern, 
At  one  end  went  in  an  old  man, 
Wasted,  wrinkled,  old,  and  ugly; 
From  the  other  came  a  young  man, 
Tall  and  straight  and  strong  and  handsome. 
"Thus  Osseo  was  transfigured, 
Thus  restored  to  youth  and  beauty; 
But  alas  for  good  Osseo, 
And  for  Oweenee,  the  faithful ! 
Strangely,  too,  was  she  transfigured. 
Changed  into  a  weak  old  woman, 
With  a  staff  she  tottered  onward, 
Wasted,  wrinkled,  old,  and  ugly ! 
And  the  sisters  and  their  husbands 
Laughed  until  the  echoing  forest 
Rang  with  their  unseemly  laughter. 
"But  Osseo  turned  not  from  her, 
Walked  with  slower  step  beside  her, 
Took  her  hand,  as  brown  and  withered 
As  an  oak-leaf  is  in  Winter, 
Called  her  sweetheart,  Nenemoosha, 
Soothed  her  with  soft  words  of  kindness. 
Till  they  reached  the  lodge  of  feasting, 
Till  they  sat  down  in  the  wigwam, 
Sacred  to  the  Star  of  Evening, 
To  the  tender  Star  of  Woman. 
[214] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"Wrapt  in  visions,  lost  in  dreaming, 
At  the  banquet  sat  Osseo; 
All  were  merry,  all  were  happy, 
All  were  joyous  but  Osseo, 
Neither  food  nor  drink  he  tasted, 
Neither  did  he  speak  nor  listen, 
But  as  one  bewildered  sat  he, 
Looking  dreamily  and  sadly, 
First  at  Oweenee,  then  upward 
At  the  gleaming  sky  above  them. 

"Then  a  voice  was  heard,  a  whisper. 
Coming  from  the  starry  distance, 
Coming  from  the  empty  vastness, 
Low,  and  musical  and  tender; 
And  the  voice  said :     'O  Osseo ! 
O  my  son,  my  best  beloved ! 
Broken  are  the  spells  that  bound  you, 
All  the  charms  of  the  magicians, 
All  the  magic  powers  of  evil; 
Come  to  me ;  ascend,  Osseo ! 

'Taste  the  food  that  stands  before  you; 
It  is  blessed  and  enchanted, 
It  has  magic  virtues  in  it, 
It  will  change  you  to  a  spirit. 
All  your  bowls  and  all  your  kettles 
Shall  be  wood  and  clay  no  longer; 
[215] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

But  the  bowls  be  changed  to  wampum. 
And  the  kettles  shall  be  silver; 
They  shall  shine  like  shells  of  scarlet, 
Like  the  fire  shall  gleam  and  glimmer. 

'  'And  the  women  shall  no  longer 
Bear  the  dreary  doom  of  labor, 
But  be  changed  to  birds,  and  glisten 
With  the  beauty  of  the  starlight, 
Painted  with  the  dusky  splendors 
Of  the  skies  and  clouds  of  evening!' 

"What  Osseo  heard  as  whispers, 
What  as  words  he  comprehended, 
Was  but  music  to  the  others, 
Music  as  of  birds  afar  off, 
Of  the  whippoorwill  afar  off, 
Of  the  lonely  Wawonaissa 
Singing  in  the  darksome  forest. 

"Then  the  lodge  began  to  tremble, 
Straight  began  to  shake  and  tremble, 
And  they  felt  it  rising,  rising, 
Slowly  through  the  air  ascending, 
From  the  darkness  of  the  tree-tops 
Forth  into  the  dewy  starlight, 
Till  it  passed  the  topmost  branches; 
And  behold !  the  wooden  dishes 
[216] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

All  were  changed  to  shells  of  scarlet ! 
And  behold!  the  earthen  kettles 
All  were  changed  to  bowls  of  silver! 
And  the  roof-poles  of  the  wigwam 
Were  as  glittering  rods  of  silver, 
And  the  roof  of  bark  upon  them 
As  the  shining  shards  of  beetles. 

"Then  Osseo  gazed  around  him, 
And  he  saw  the  nine  fair  sisters, 
All  the  sisters  and  their  husbands, 
Changed  to  birds  of  various  plumage. 
Some  were  jays  and  some  were  magpies, 
Others  thrushes,  others  blackbirds ; 
And  they  hopped,  and  sang,  and  twittered, 
Pecked  and  fluttered  all  their  feathers, 
Strutted  in  their  shining  plumage, 
And  their  tails  like  fans  unfolded. 

"Only  Oweenee,  the  youngest, 
Was  not  changed,  but  sat  in  silence, 
Wasted,  wrinkled,  old,  and  ugly, 
Looking  sadly  at  the  others ; 
Till  Osseo,  gazing  upward, 
Gave  another  cry  of  anguish, 
Such  a  cry  as  he  had  uttered 
By  the  oak-tree  in  the  forest. 
[217] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"Then  returned  her  youth  and  beauty, 
And  her  soiled  and  tattered  garments 
Were  transformed  to  robes  of  ermine, 
And  her  staff  became  a  feather, 
Yes,  a  shining  silver  feather! 

"And  again  the  wigwam  trembled, 
Swayed  and  rushed  through  airy  currents, 
Through  transparent  cloud  and  vapor, 
And  amid  celestial  splendors 
On  the  Evening  Star  alighted, 
As  a  snow-flake  falls  on  snow-flake, 
As  a  leaf  drops  on  a  river, 
As  the  thistle-down  on  water. 

"Forth  with  cheerful  words  of  welcome 
Came  the  father  of  Osseo, 
He  with  radiant  locks  of  silver, 
He  with  eyes  serene  and  tender. 
And  he  said :     'My  son,  Osseo, 
Hang  the  cage  of  birds  you  bring  there, 
Hang  the  cage  with  rods  of  silver, 
And  the  birds  with  glistening  feathers, 
At  the  doorway  of  my  wigwam.' 

"At  the  door  he  hung  the  bird-cage, 
And  they  entered  in  and  gladly 
Listened  to  Osseo's  father, 
Ruler  of  the  Star  of  Evening, 
[218] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

As  he  said :     'O  my  Osseo ! 

I  have  had  compassion  on  you, 

Given  you  back  your  youth  and  beauty, 

Into  birds  of  various  plumage 

Changed  your  sisters  and  their  husbands; 

Changed  them  thus  because  they  mocked  you 

In  the  figure  of  the  old  man, 

In  that  aspect  sad  and  wrinkled, 

Could  not  see  your  heart  of  passion, 

Could  not  see  your  youth  immortal; 

Only  Oweenee,  the  faithful, 

Saw  your  naked  heart  and  loved  you. 

c  'In  the  lodge  that  glimmers  yonder, 
In  the  little  star  that  twinkles 
Through  the  vapors,  on  the  left  hand, 
Lives  the  envious  Evil  Spirit, 
The  Wabeno,  the  magician, 
Who  transformed  you  to  an  old  man. 
Take  heed  lest  his  beams  fall  on  you, 
For  the  rays  he  darts  around  him 
Are  the  power  of  his  enchantment, 
Are  the  arrows  that  he  uses.' 

"Many  years,  in  peace  and  quiet, 
On  the  peaceful  Star  of  Evening 
Dwelt  Osseo  with  his  father; 
Many  years,  in  song  and  flutter, 
[219] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

At  the  doorway  of  the  wigwam, 
Hung  the  cage  with  rods  of  silver, 
And  fair  Oweenee,  the  faithful, 
Bore  a  son  unto  Osseo, 
With  the  beauty  of  his  mother, 
With  the  courage  of  his  father. 

"And  the  boy  grew  up  and  prospered, 
And  Osseo,  to  delight  him, 
Made  him  little  bows  and  arrows, 
Opened  the  great  cage  of  silver, 
And  let  loose  his  aunts  and  uncles, 
All  those  birds  with  glossy  feathers 
For  his  little  son  to  shoot  at. 

"Round  and  round  they  wheeled  and  darted, 
Filled  the  Evening  Star  with  music, 
With  their  songs  of  joy  and  freedom; 
Filled  the  Evening  Star  with  splendor, 
With  the  fluttering  of  their  plumage ; 
Till  the  boy,  the  little  hunter, 
Bent  his  bow  and  shot  an  arrow, 
Shot  a  swift  and  fatal  arrow, 
And  a  bird,  with  shining  feathers, 
At  his  feet  fell  wounded  sorely. 

"But,  O  wondrous  transformation! 
'Twas  no  bird  he  saw  before  him, 
[  220  ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

'Twas  a  beautiful  young  woman, 
With  the  arrow  in  her  bosom ! 

"When  her  blood  fell  on  the  planet, 
On  the  sacred  Star  of  Evening, 
Broken  was  the  spell  of  magic, 
Powerless  was  the  strange  enchantment, 
And  the  youth,  the  fearless  bowman, 
Suddenly  felt  himself  descending, 
Held  by  unseen  hands,  but  sinking 
Downward  through  the  empty  spaces, 
Downward  through  the  clouds  and  vapors, 
Till  he  rested  on  an  island, 
On  an  island,  green  and  grassy, 
Yonder  in  the  Big-Sea-Water. 

"After  him  he  saw  descending 
All  the  birds  with  shining  feathers, 
Fluttering,  falling,  wafted  downward, 
Like  the  painted  leaves  of  Autumn; 
And  the  lodge  with  poles  of  silver, 
With  its  roof  like  wings  of  beetles, 
Like  the  shining  shards  of  beetles, 
By  the  winds  of  heaven  uplifted, 
Slowly  sank  upon  the  island, 
Bringing  back  the  good  Osseo, 
Bringing  Oweenee,  the  faithful. 

[221  ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"Then  the  birds,  again  transfigured, 
Reassumed  the  shape  of  mortals, 
Took  their  shape,  but  not  their  stature; 
They  remained  as  Little  People, 
Like  the  pygmies,  the  Puk-Wudjies, 
And  on  pleasant  nights  of  Summer, 
When  the  Evening  Star  was  shining, 
Hand  in  hand  they  danced  together, 
On  the  island's  craggy  headlands, 
On  the  sand-beach  low  and  level. 

"Still  their  glittering  lodge  is  seen  there, 
On  the  tranquil  Summer  evenings, 
And  upon  the  shore  the  fisher 
Sometimes  hears  their  happy  voices, 
Sees  them  dancing  in  the  starlight!" 

When  the  story  was  completed, 
When  the  wondrous  tale  was  ended, 
Looking  round  upon  his  listeners, 
Solemnly  lagoo  added : 
"There  are  great  men,  I  have  known  such, 
Whom  their  people  understand  not, 
Whom  they  even  make  a  jest  of, 
Scoff  and  jeer  at  in  derision. 
From  the  story  of  Osseo 
Let  them  learn  the  fate  of  jesters!" 

All  the  wedding  guests  delighted 

[  222  ] 


HE  WAS  HELD  BY  UNSEEN  HANDS,   BUT  SINKING — Page  221 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Listened  to  the  marvelous  story, 
Listened  laughing  and  applauding, 
And  they  whispered  to  each  other : 
"Does  he  mean  himself,  I  wonder? 
And  are  we  the  aunts  and  uncles?" 

Then  again  sang  Chibiabos, 
Sang  a  song  of  love  and  longing, 
In  those  accents  sweet  and  tender, 
In  those  tones  of  pensive  sadness, 
Sang  a  maiden's  lamentation 
For  her  lover,  her  Algonquin. 

"When  I  think  of  my  beloved, 
Ah  me !  think  of  my  beloved, 
When  my  heart  is  thinking  of  him, 
O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin ! 

"Ah  me !  when  I  parted  from  him, 
Round  my  neck  he  hung  the  wampum, 
As  a  pledge,  the  snow-white  wampum, 
O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin ! 

"I  will  go  with  you,  he  whispered, 
Ah  me !  to  your  native  country; 
Let  me  go  with  you,  he  whispered, 
O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin ! 

"Far  away,  away,  I  answered, 
Very  far  away,  I  answered, 
Ah  me !  is  my  native  country, 
[  223  ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin ! 

"When  I  looked  back  to  behold  him, 
Where  we  parted,  to  behold  him, 
After  me  he  still  was  gazing, 
O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin ! 

"By  the  tree  he  still  was  standing, 
By  the  fallen  tree  was  standing, 
That  had  dropped  into  the  water, 
O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin ! 

"When  I  think  of  my  beloved, 
Ah  me !  think  of  my  beloved, 
When  my  heart  is  thinking  of  him, 
O  my  sweetheart,  my  Algonquin!" 

Such  was  Hiawatha's  Wedding, 
Such  the  dance  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Such  the  story  of  lagoo, 
Such  the  songs  of  Chibiabos ; 
Thus  the  wedding  banquet  ended, 
And  the  wedding  guests  departed. 
Leaving  Hiawatha  happy 
With  the  night  and  Minnehaha. 


[224] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

XIII 

BLESSING  THE  CORNFIELDS 

SING,  O  song  of  Hiawatha, 
Of  the  happy  days  that  followed, 
In  the  land  of  the  Ojibways, 
In  the  pleasant  land  and  peaceful ! 
Sing  the  mysteries  of  Mondamin, 
Sing  the  Blessings  of  the  Cornfields ! 

Buried  was  the  bloody  hatchet, 
Buried  was  the  dreadful  war-club, 
Buried  were  all  warlike  weapons, 
And  the  war-cry  was  forgotten. 
There  was  peace  among  the  nations ; 
Unmolested  roved  the  hunters, 
Built  the  birch  canoe  for  sailing, 
Caught  the  fish  in  lake  and  river, 
Shot  the  deer  and  trapped  the  beaver, 
Unmolested  worked  the  women, 
Made  their  sugar  from  the  maple, 
Gathered  wild  rice  in  the  meadows, 
Dressed  the  skins  of  deer  and  beaver. 

All  around  the  happy  village 
Stood  the  maize-fields,  green  and  shining, 
Waved  the  green  plumes  of  Mondamin, 
Waved  his  soft  and  sunny  tresses, 
[225  ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Filling  all  the  land  with  plenty. 
'Twas  the  women  who  in  Springtime, 
Planted  the  broad  fields  and  fruitful, 
Buried  in  the  earth  Mondamin ; 
'Twas  the  women  who  in  Autumn 
Stripped  the  yellow  husks  of  harvest, 
Stripped  the  garments  from  Mondamin, 
Even  as  Hiawatha  taught  them. 

Once,  when  all  the  maize  was  planted, 
Hiawatha,  wise  and  thoughtful, 
Spake  and  said  to  Minnehaha, 
To  his  wife,  the  Laughing  Water : 
"You  shall  bless  to-night  the  cornfields, 
Draw  a  magic  circle  round  them, 
To  protect  them  from  destruction, 
Blast  of  mildew,  blight  of  insect, 
Wagemin,  the  thief  of  cornfields, 
Paimosaid,  who  steals  the  maize-ear! 

"In  the  night,  when  all  is  silence, 
In  the  night  when  all  is  darkness, 
When  the  Spirit  of  Sleep,  Nepahwin, 
Shuts  the  doors  of  all  the  wigwams, 
So  that  not  an  ear  can  hear  you, 
So  that  not  an  eye  can  see  you, 
Rise  up  from  your  bed  in  silence, 
Lay  aside  your  garments  wholly, 
[226] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Walk  around  the  fields  you  planted, 
Round  the  borders  of  the  cornfields, 
Covered  by  your  tresses  only, 
Robed  with  darkness  as  a  garment. 

"Thus  the  fields  shall  be  more  fruitful, 
And  the  passing  of  your  footsteps 
Draw  a  magic  circle  round  them, 
So  that  neither  blight  nor  mildew, 
Neither  burrowing  worm  nor  insect, 
Shall  pass  o'er  the  magic  circle; 
Not  the  dragon-fly,  Kwo-ne-she, 
Nor  the  spider,  Subbekashe, 
Nor  the  grasshopper,  Pah-puk-keena 
Nor  the  mighty  caterpillar, 
Way-muk-kwana,  with  the  bearskin^ 
King  of  all  the  caterpillars!" 

On  the  tree-tops  near  the  cornfields 
Sat  the  hungry  crows  and  ravens, 
Kahgahgee,  the  King  of  Ravens, 
With  his  band  of  black  marauders, 
And  they  laughed  at  Hiawatha, 
Till  the  tree-tops  shook  with  laughter, 
With  their  melancholy  laughter, 
At  the  words  of  Hiawatha, 
"Hear  him!"  said  they;  "hear  the  Wise  Man, 

Hear  the  plots  of  Hiawatha!" 

[227] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

When  the  noiseless  night  descended 
Broad  and  dark  o'er  field  and  forest, 
When  the  mournful  Wawonaissa, 
Sorrowing  sang  among  the  hemlocks, 
And  the  Spirit  of  Sleep,  Nepahwin, 
Shut  the  doors  of  all  the  wigwams, 
From  her  bed  rose  Laughing  Water, 
Laid  aside  her  garments  wholly, 
And  with  darkness  clothed  and  guarded, 
Unashamed  and  unaffrighted, 
Walked  securely  round  the  cornfields, 
Drew  the  sacred,  magic  circle 
Of  her  footprints  round  the  cornfields. 

No  one  but  the  Midnight  only 
Saw  her  beauty  in  the  darkness, 
No  one  but  the  Wawonaissa 
Heard  the  panting  of  her  bosom; 
Guskewau,  the  darkness,  wrapped  her 
Closely  in  his  sacred  mantle, 
So  that  none  might  see  her  beauty, 
So  that  none  might  boast,  "I  saw  her!" 

On  the  morrow,  as  the  day  dawned, 
Kahgahgee,  the  King  of  Ravens, 
Gathered  all  his  black  marauders, 
Crows  and  blackbirds,  jays,  and  ravens, 
Clamorous  on  the  dusky  tree-tops, 
[228] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  descended,  fast  and  fearless, 
On  the  fields  of  Hiawatha, 
On  the  grave  of  the  Mondamin. 

"We  will  drag  Mondamin,"  said  they, 
"From  the  grave  where  he  is  buried, 
Spite  of  all  the  magic  circles 
Laughing  Water  draws  around  it, 
Spite  of  all  the  sacred  footprints 
Minnehaha  stamps  upon  it!" 

But  the  wary  Hiawatha, 
Ever  thoughtful,  careful,  watchful, 
Had  o'erheard  the  scornful  laughter 
When  they  mocked  him  from  the  tree-tops. 
"Kaw!"  he  said,  "my  friends  the  ravens! 
Kahgahgee,  my  King  of  Ravens ! 
I  will  teach  you  all  a  lesson 
That  shall  not  be  soon  forgotten !" 

He  had  risen  before  the  daybreak, 
He  had  spread  o'er  all  the  cornfields 
Snares  to  catch  the  black  marauders, 
And  was  lying  now  in  ambush 
In  the  neighboring  grove  of  pine-trees, 
Waiting  for  the  crows  and  blackbirds, 
Waiting  for  the  jays  and  ravens. 

Soon  they  came  with  caw  and  clamor, 
Rush  of  wings  and  cry  of  voices, 
[229] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

To  their  work  of  devastation, 
Settling  down  upon  the  cornfields, 
Delving  deep  with  beak  and  talon, 
For  the  body  of  Mondamin. 
And  with  all  their  craft  and  cunning, 
All  their  skill  in  wiles  of  warfare, 
They  perceived  no  danger  near  them, 
Till  their  claws  became  entangled, 
Till  they  found  themselves  imprisoned 
In  the  snares  of  Hiawatha. 

From  his  place  of  ambush  came  he, 
Striding  terrible  among  them, 
And  so  awful  was  his  aspect 
That  the  bravest  quailed  with  terror, 
Without  mercy  he  destroyed  them 
Right  and  left,  by  tens  and  twenties, 
And  their  wretched,  lifeless  bodies 
Hung  aloft  on  poles  for  scarecrows 
Round  the  consecrated  cornfields, 
As  a  signal  of  his  vengeance, 
As  a  warning  to  marauders. 

Only  Kahgahgee,  the  leader. 
Kahgahgee,  the  King  of  Ravens, 
He  alone  was  spared  among  them 
As  a  hostage  for  his  people. 
With  his  prisoner-string  he  bound  him, 
[230] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Led  him  captive  to  his  wigwam, 
Tied  him  fast  with  cords  of  elm-bark 
To  the  ridge-pole  of  his  wigwam. 

"Kahgahgee,  my  raven!"  said  he, 
"You  the  leader  of  the  robbers, 
You  the  plotter  of  this  mischief, 
The  contriver  of  this  outrage, 
I  will  keep  you,  I  will  hold  you, 
As  a  hostage  for  your  people, 
As  a  pledge  of  good  behavior!" 

And  he  left  him,  grim  and  sulky, 
Sitting  in  the  morning  sunshine 
On  the  summit  of  the  wigwam, 
Croaking  fiercely  his  displeasure, 
Flapping  his  great  sable  pinions, 
Vainly  struggling  for  his  freedom, 
Vainly  calling  on  his  people ! 

Summer  passed,  and  Shawondasee 
Breathed  his  sighs  o'er  all  the  landscape, 
From  the  South-land  sent  his  ardors, 
Wafted  kisses  warm  and  tender; 
And  the  maize-field  grew  and  ripened, 
Till  it  stood  in  all  the  splendor 
Of  its  garments  green  and  yellow, 
Of  its  tassels  and  its  plumage. 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  the  maize-ears  full  and  shining 
Gleamed  from  bursting  sheaths  of  verdure. 

Then  Nokomis,  the  old  woman, 
Spake,  and  said  to  Minnehaha : 
"  'Tis  the  Moon  when  leaves  are  falling: 
All  the  wild-rice  has  been  gathered, 
And  the  maize  is  ripe  and  ready; 
Let  us  gather  in  the  harvest, 
Let  us  wrestle  with  Mondamin, 
Strip  him  of  his  plumes  and  tassels, 
Of  his  garments  green  and  yellow !" 

And  the  merry  Laughing  Water 
Went  rejoicing  from  the  wigwam, 
With  Nokomis,  old  and  wrinkled, 
And  they  called  the  women  round  them, 
Called  the  young  men  and  the  maidens, 
To  the  harvest  of  the  cornfields, 
To  the  husking  of  the  maize-ear. 

On  the  border  of  the  forest, 
Underneath  the  fragrant  pine-trees, 
Sat  the  old  men  and  the  warriors 
Smoking  in  the  pleasant  shadow. 
In  uninterrupted  silence 
Looked  they  at  the  gamesome  labor 
Of  the  young  men  and  the  women ; 
Listened  to  their  noisy  talking, 
[232] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

To  their  laughter  and  their  singing, 
Heard  them  chattering  like  the  magpies, 
Heard  them  laughing  like  the  blue-jays, 
Heard  them  singing  like  the  robins. 

And  whene'er  some  lucky  maiden 
Found  a  red  ear  in  the  husking, 
Found  a  maize-ear  red  as  blood  is, 
"Nushka!"  cried  they  all  together, 
"Nushka!  you  shall  have  a  sweetheart, 
You  shall  have  a  handsome  husband!" 
"Ugh!"  the  old  men  all  responded 
From  their  seats  beneath  the  pine-trees. 

And  whene'er  a  youth  or  maiden 
Found  a  crooked  ear  in  husking, 
Found  a  maize-ear  in  the  husking, 
Blighted,  mildewed,  or  misshapen, 
Then  they  laughed  and  sang  together, 
Crept  and  limped  about  the  cornfields 
Mimicked  in  their  gait  and  gestures 
Some  old  man,  bent  almost  double, 
Singing  singly  or  together : 
"Wagemin,  the  thief  of  cornfields! 
Paimosaid,  the  skulking  robber!" 

Till  the  cornfields  rang  with  laughter, 
Till  from  Hiawatha's  wigwam 
Kahgahgee,  the  King  of  Ravens, 
[233] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Screamed  and  quivered  in  his  anger, 
And  from  all  the  neighboring  tree-tops 
Cawed  and  croaked  the  black  marauders. 
"Ugh!"  the  old  men  all  responded, 
From  their  seats  beneath  the  pine-trees ! 

XIV 

PICTURE-WRITING 

IN  those  days  said  Hiawatha, 
"Lo!  how  all  things  fade  and  perish! 
From  the  memory  of  the  old  men 
Fade  away  the  great  traditions, 
The  achievements  of  the  warriors. 
The  adventures  of  the  hunters, 
All  the  wisdom  of  the  Medas, 
All  the  craft  of  the  Wabenos, 
All  the  marvelous  dreams  and  visions 
Of  the  Jossakeeds,  the  Prophets ! 

"Great  men  die  and  are  forgotten, 
Wise  men  speak;  their  words  of  wisdom 
Perish  in  the  ears  that  hear  them, 
Do  not  reach  the  generations 
That,  as  yet  unborn,  are  waiting 
In  the  great,  mysterious  darkness 
Of  the  speechless  days  that  shall  be ! 
[234] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"On  the  grave-posts  of  our  fathers 
Are  no  signs,  no  figures  painted; 
Who  are  in  those  graves  we  know  not, 
Only  know  they  are  our  fathers. 
Of  what  kith  they  are  and  kindred, 
From  what  old,  ancestral  Totem, 
Be  it  Eagle,  Bear,  or  Beaver, 
They  descended,  this  we  know  not, 
Only  know  they  are  our  fathers. 

"Face  to  face  we  speak  together, 
But  we  cannot  speak  when  absent, 
Cannot  send  our  voices  from  us 
To  the  friends  that  dwell  afar  off; 
Cannot  send  a  secret  message, 
But  the  bearer  learns  our  secret, 
May  pervert  it,  may  betray  it, 
May  reveal  it  unto  others." 

Thus  said  Hiawatha,  walking 
In  the  solitary  forest, 
Pondering,  musing  in  the  forest, 
On  the  welfare  of  his  people. 

From  his  pouch  he  took  his  colors, 
Took  his  paints  of  different  colors, 
On  the  smooth  bark  of  a  birch-tree 
Painted  many  shapes  and  figures, 
Wonderful  and  mystic  figures, 
[  235  ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  each  figure  had  a  meaning, 
Each  some  word  or  thought  suggested. 

Gitche  Manito  the  Mighty, 
He,  the  Master  of  Life,  was  painted 
As  an  egg,  with  points  projecting 
To  the  four  winds  of  the  heavens. 
Everywhere  is  the  Great  Spirit, 
Was  the  meaning  of  this  symbol. 

Mitche  Manito  the  Mighty, 
He  the  dreadful  Spirit  of  Evil, 
As  a  serpent  was  depicted, 
As  Kenabeek,  the  great  serpent. 
Very  crafty,  very  cunning, 
Is  the  creeping  Spirit  of  Evil, 
Was  the  meaning  of  this  symbol. 

Life  and  Death  he  drew  as  circles, 
Life  was  white,  but  Death  was  darkened; 
Sun  and  moon  and  stars  he  painted, 
Man  and  beast,  and  fish  and  reptile, 
Forests,  mountains,  lakes,  and  rivers. 

For  the  earth  he  drew  a  straight  line, 
For  the  sky  a  bow  above  it; 
White  the  space  between  for  day-time, 
Filled  with  little  stars  for  night-time; 
On  the  left  a  point  for  sunrise, 
On  the  right  a  point  for  sunset, 
[236] 


'AND  EACH  FIGURE  HAD  A  MEANING" — Page  236 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

On  the  top  a  point  for  noontide, 
And  for  rain  and  cloudy  weather 
Waving  lines  descending  from  it. 

Footprints  pointing  towards  a  wigwam 
Were  a  sign  of  invitation, 
Were  a  sign  of  guests  assembling : 
Bloody  hands  with  palms  uplifted 
Were  a  symbol  of  destruction, 
Were  a  hostile  sign  and  symbol. 

All  these  things  did  Hiawatha 
Show  unto  his  wondering  people, 
And  interpreted  their  meaning, 
And  he  said :    "Behold,  your  graveposts 
Have  no  mark,  no  sign,  nor  symbol, 
Go  and  paint  them  all  with  figures ; 
Each  one  with  its  household  symbol, 
With  its  own  ancestral  Totem, 
So  that  those  who  follow  after 
May  distinguish  them  and  know  them." 

And  they  painted  on  the  graveposts 
Of  the  graves  yet  unforgotten, 
Each  his  own  ancestral  Totem, 
Each  the  symbol  of  his  household; 
Figures  of  the  Bear  and  Reindeer, 
Of  the  Turtle,  Crane,  and  Beaver, 
Each  inverted  as  a  token 
[237] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

That  the  owner  was  departed, 
That  the  chief  who  bore  the  symbol 
Lay  beneath  in  dust  and  ashes. 

And  the  Jossakeeds,  the  Prophets, 
The  Wabenos,  the  Magicians, 
And  the  Medicine-men,  the  Medas, 
Painted  upon  bark  and  deer-skin 
Figures  for  the  songs  they  chanted, 
For  each  song  a  separate  symbol, 
Figures  mystical  and  awful, 
Figures  strange  and  brightly  colored; 
And  each  figure  had  its  meaning, 
Each  some  magic  song  suggested. 

The  Great  Spirit,  the  Creator, 
Flashing  light  through  all  the  heaven; 
The  Great  Serpent,  the  Kenabeek, 
With  his  bloody  crest  erected, 
Creeping,  looking  into  heaven; 
In  the  sky  the  sun,  that  listens, 
And  the  moon  eclipsed  and  dying; 
Owl  and  eagle,  crane  and  hen-hawk, 
And  the  cormorant,  bird  of  magic ; 
Headless  men,  that  walk  the  heavens, 
Bodies  lying  pierced  with  arrows, 
Bloody  hands  of  death  uplifted, 
Flags  on  graves,  and  great  war-captains 
[238] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Grasping  both  the  earth  and  heaven ! 

Such  as  these  the  shapes  they  painted 
On  the  birch-bark  and  the  deer-skin ; 
Songs  of  war  and  songs  of  hunting, 
Songs  of  medicine  and  of  magic, 
All  were  written  in  these  figures, 
For  each  figure  had  its  meaning, 
Each  its  separate  song  recorded. 

Nor  forgotten  was  the  Love-Song, 
The  most  subtle  of  all  medicines, 
The  most  potent  spell  of  magic, 
Dangerous  more  than  war  or  hunting ! 
Thus  the  Love-Song  was  recorded, 
Symbol  and  interpretation. 

First  a  human  figure  standing, 
Painted  in  the  brightest  scarlet; 
'Tis  the  lover,  the  musician, 
And  the  meaning  is,  "My  painting 
Makes  me  powerful  over  others." 

Then  the  figure  seated,  singing, 
Playing  on  a  drum  of  magic, 
And  the  interpretation,  "Listen! 
'Tis  my  voice  you  hear,  my  singing!" 

Then  the  same  red  figure  seated 
In  the  shelter  of  a  wigwam, 
And  the  meaning  of  the  symbol, 
[239] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"I  will  come  and  sit  beside  you 
In  the  mystery  of  my  passion!" 

Then  two  figures,  man  and  woman, 
Standing  hand  in  hand  together 
With  their  hands  so  clasped  together 
That  they  seem  in  one  united, 
And  the  words  thus  represented 
Are,  "I  see  your  heart  within  you, 
And  your  cheeks  are  red  with  blushes !" 

Next  the  maiden  on  an  island, 
In  the  centre  of  an  island ; 
And  the  song  this  shape  suggested 
Was,  "Though  you  were  at  a  distance, 
Were  upon  some  far-off  island, 
Such  the  spell  I  cast  upon  you, 
Such  the  magic  power  of  passion, 
I  could  straightway  draw  you  to  me!" 

Then  the  figure  of  the  maiden 
Sleeping,  and  the  lover  near  her, 
Whispering  to  her  in  her  slumbers, 
Saying,  "Though  you  were  far  from  me 
In  the  land  of  Sleep  and  Silence, 
Still  the  voice  of  love  would  reach  you!" 

And  the  last  of  all  the  figures 
Was  a  heart  within  a  circle, 

Drawn  within  a  magic  circle; 

[240] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  the  image  had  this  meaning : 
"Naked  lies  your  heart  before  me, 
To  your  naked  heart  I  whisper!" 

Thus  it  was  that  Hiawatha, 
In  his  wisdom,  taught  the  people 
All  the  mysteries  of  painting, 
All  the  art  of  Picture-Writing, 
On  the  smooth  bark  of  the  birch-tree, 
On  the  white  skin  of  the  reindeer, 
On  the  grave-posts  of  the  village. 


IN  those  days  the  Evil  Spirits, 
All  the  Manitos  of  mischief, 
Fearing  Hiawatha's  wisdom, 
And  his  love  for  Chibiabos, 
Jealous  of  their  faithful  friendship, 
And  their  noble  words  and  actions, 
Made  at  length  a  league  against  them. 
To  molest  them  and  destroy  them. 

Hiawatha,  wise  and  wary, 
Often  said  to  Chibiabos, 
"O  my  brother!  do  not  leave  me, 
Lest  the  Evil  Spirits  harm  you!" 
[241] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Chibiabos,  young  and  heedless, 
Laughing  shook  his  coal-black  tresses, 
Answered  ever  sweet  and  childlike, 
"Do  not  fear  for  me,  O  brother! 
Harm  and  evil  come  not  near  me !" 

Once  when  Peboan,  the  Winter, 
Roofed  with  ice  the  Big-Sea-Water, 
When  the  snow-flakes,  whirling  downward, 
Hissed  among  the  withered  oak-leaves, 
Changed  the  pine-trees  into  wigwams, 
Covered  all  the  earth  with  silence, — 
Armed  with  arrows,  shod  with  snow-shoes, 
Heeding  not  his  brother's  warning, 
Fearing  not  the  Evil  Spirits, 
Forth  to  hunt  the  deer  with  antlers 
All  alone  went  Chibiabos. 

Right  across  the  Big-Sea-Water 
Sprang  with  speed  the  deer  before  him. 
With  the  wind  and  snow  he  followed, 
O'er  the  treacherous  ice  he  followed, 
Wild  with  all  the  fierce  commotion 
And  the  rapture  of  the  hunting. 

But  beneath,  the  Evil  Spirits 
Lay  in  ambush,  waiting  for  him, 
Broke  the  treacherous  ice  beneath  him, 
Dragged  him  downward  to  the  bottom, 
[242] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Buried  in  the  sand  his  body, 
Unktahee,  the  god  of  water, 
He,  the  god  of  the  Dacotahs, 
Drowned  him  in  the  deep  abysses 
Of  the  lake  of  Gitche  Gumee. 

From  the  headlands  Hiawatha 
Sent  forth  such  a  wail  of  anguish, 
Such  a  fearful  lamentation, 
That  the  bison  paused  to  listen, 
And  the  wolves  howled  from  the  prairies, 
And  the  thunder  in  the  distance 
Woke  and  answered  "Baim-wawa!" 

Then  his  face  with  black  he  painted, 
With  his  robe  his  head  he  covered, 
In  his  wigwam  sat  lamenting, 
Seven  long  weeks  he  sat  lamenting, 
Uttering  still  this  moan  of  sorrow : — 

"He  is  dead,  the  sweet  musician! 
He,  the  sweetest  of  all  singers ! 
He  has  gone  from  us  forever, 
He  has  moved  a  little  nearer 
To  the  Master  of  all  music, 
To  the  Master  of  all  singing ! 
O  my  brother,  Chibiabos!" 

And  the  melancholy  fir-trees 
Waved  their  dark  green  fans  above  him, 
[243] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Waved  their  purple  cones  above  him, 
Sighing  with  him  to  console  him, 
Mingling  with  his  lamentation 
Their  complaining,  their  lamenting. 

Came  the  Spring,  and  all  the  forest 
Looked  in  vain  for  Chibiabos; 
Sighed  the  rivulet,  Sebowisha, 
Sighed  the  rushes  in  the  meadow. 

From  the  tree-tops  sang  the  bluebird, 
§ang  the  bluebird,  the  Owaissa, 
"Chibiabos!  Chibiabos! 
He  is  dead,  the  sweet  musician!" 

Prom  the  wigwam  sang  the  robin, 
Sang  the  Opechee,  the  robin, 
"Chibiabos!  Chibiabos! 
He  is  dead,  the  sweetest  singer!" 

And  at  night,  through  all  the  forest 
Went  the  whippoorwill  complaining, 
Wailing  went  the  Wawonaissa, 
"Chibiabos!  Chibiabos! 
He  is  dead,  the  sweet  musician ! 
He  the  sweetest  of  all  singers!" 

Then  the  medicine-men,  the  Medas, 
The  magicians,  the  Wabenos, 
And  the  Jossakeeds,  the  prophets, 
Came  to  visit  Hiawatha; 
[244] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Built  a  Sacred  Lodge  beside  him, 
To  appease  him,  to  console  him, 
Walked  in  silent,  grave  procession, 
Bearing  each  a  pouch  of  healing, 
Skin  of  beaver,  lynx,  or  otter, 
Filled  with  magic  roots  and  simples, 
Filled  with  very  potent  medicines. 

When  he  heard  their  steps  approaching, 
Hiawatha  ceased  lamenting, 
Called  no  more  on  Chibiabos ; 
Naught  he  questioned,  naught  he  answered, 
But  his  mournful  head  uncovered, 
From  his  face  the  mourning  colors 
Washed  he  slowly  and  in  silence, 
Slowly  and  in  silence  followed 
Onward  to  the  Sacred  Wigwam. 

There  a  magic  drink  they  gave  him, 
Made  of  Nahma-wusk,  the  spearmint, 
And  Wabeno-wusk,  the  yarrow, 
Roots  of  power,  and  herbs  of  healing; 
Beat  their  drums,  and  shook  their  rattles; 
Chanted  singly  and  in  chorus, 
Mystic  songs  like  these,  they  chanted. 

"I  myself,  myself!  behold  me ! 
'Tis  the  great  Gray  Eagle  talking; 
Come,  ye  white  crows,  come  and  hear  him ! 
[245] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

The  loud-speaking  thunder  helps  me; 
All  the  unseen  spirits  help  me; 
I  can  hear  their  voices  calling, 
All  around  the  sky  I  hear  them ! 
I  can  blow  you  strong,  my  brother, 
I  can  heal  you,  Hiawatha!" 

"Hi-au-ha!"  replied  the  chorus, 
"Way-ha-way!"  the  mystic  chorus. 

"Friends  of  mine  are  all  the  serpents ! 
Hear  me  shake  my  skin  of  hen-hawk ! 
Mahng,  the  white  loon,  I  can  kill  him; 
I  can  shoot  your  heart  and  kill  it ! 
I  can  blow  you  strong,  my  brother, 
I  can  heal  you,  Hiawatha!" 

"Hi-au-ha!"  replied  the  chorus, 
"Way-ha-way!"  the  mystic  chorus. 

"I  myself,  myself!  the  prophet! 
When  I  speak  the  wigwam  trembles, 
Shakes  the  Sacred  Lodge  with  terror, 
Hands  unseen  begin  to  shake  it ! 
When  I  walk,  the  sky  I  tread  on 
Bends  and  makes  a  noise  beneath  me ! 
I  can  blow  you  strong,  my  brother ! 
Rise  and  speak,  O  Hiawatha!" 

"Hi-au-ha!"  replied  the  chorus, 
"Way-ha-way!"  the  mystic  chorus. 
[246] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Then  they  shook  their  medicine-pouches 
O'er  the  head  of  Hiawatha, 
Danced  their  medicine-dance  around  him; 
And  upstarting  wild  and  haggard, 
Like  a  man  from  dreams  awakened, 
He  was  healed  of  all  his  madness. 
As  the  clouds  are  swept  from  heaven, 
Straightway  from  his  brain  departed 
All  his  moody  melancholy; 
As  the  ice  is  swept  from  rivers, 
Straightway  from  his  heart  departed 
All  his  sorrow  and  affliction. 

Then  they  summoned  Chibiabos 
From  his  grave  beneath  the  waters, 
From  the  sands  of  Gitche  Gumee 
Summoned  Hiawatha's  brother. 
And  so  mighty  was  the  magic 
Of  that  cry  and  invocation, 
That  he  heard  it  as  he  lay  there 
Underneath  the  Big-Sea-Water; 
From  the  sand  he  rose  and  listened, 
Heard  the  music  and  the  singing, 
Came,  obedient  to  the  summons, 
To  the  doorway  of  the  wigwam, 
But  to  enter  they  forbade  him. 

Through  a  chink  a  coal  they  gave  him, 
[247] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Through  the  door  a  burning  fire-brand; 

Ruler  in  the  Land  of  Spirits, 

Ruler  o'er  the  dead,  they  made  him, 

Telling  him  a  fire  to  kindle 

For  all  those  that  died  thereafter, 

Camp-fires  for  their  night  encampments 

On  their  solitary  journey 

To  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah, 

To  the  land  of  the  Hereafter. 

From  the  village  of  his  childhood, 
From  the  homes  of  those  who  knew  him, 
Passing  silent  through  the  forest, 
Like  a  smoke-wreath  wafted  sideways, 
Slowly  vanished  Chibiabos ! 
Where  he  passed,  the  branches  moved  not, 
Where  he  trod  the  grasses  bent  not, 
And  the  fallen  leaves  of  last  year 
Made  no  sound  beneath  his  footsteps. 

Four  whole  days  he  journeyed  onward 
Down  the  pathway  of  the  dead  men; 
On  the  dead-man's  strawberry  feasted, 
Crossed  the  melancholy  river, 
On  the  swinging  log  he  crossed  it, 
Came  unto  the  Lake  of  Silver. 
In  the  Stone  Canoe  was  carried 

To  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed, 

[248] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

To  the  land  of  ghosts  and  shadows. 

On  that  journey,  moving  slowly, 
Many  weary  spirits  saw  he, 
Panting  under  heavy  burdens, 
Laden  with  war-clubs,  bows  and  arrows, 
Robes  of  fur,  and  pots  and  kettles, 
And  with  food  that  friends  had  given 
For  that  solitary  journey. 

"Aye!  why  do  the  living,"  said  they, 
"Lay  such  heavy  burdens  on  us ! 
Better  were  it  to  go  naked, 
Better  were  it  to  go  fasting, 
Than  to  bear  such  heavy  burdens 
On  our  long  and  weary  journey!" 

Forth  then  issued  Hiawatha, 
Wandered  eastward,  wandered  westward, 
Teaching  men  the  use  of  simples 
And  the  antidotes  for  poisons, 
And  the  cure  of  all  diseases. 
Thus  was  first  made  known  to  mortals 
All  the  mystery  of  Medamin, 
All  the  sacred  art  of  healing. 


1 249  ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

XVI 

PAU-PUK-KEEWIS 

YOU  shall  hear  how  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
He,  the  handsome  Yenadizze, 
Whom  the  people  called  the  Storm  Fool, 
Vexed  the  village  with  disturbance; 
You  shall  hear  of  all  his  mischief, 
And  his  flight  from  Hiawatha, 
And  his  wondrous  transmigrations, 
And  the  end  of  his  adventures. 

On  the  shores  of  Gitche  Gumee, 
On  the  dunes  of  Nagow  Wudjoo, 
By  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water 
Stood  the  lodge  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 
It  was  he  who  in  his  frenzy 
Whirled  these  drifting  sands  together, 
On  the  dunes  of  Nagow  Wudjoo, 
When,  among  the  guests  assembled, 
He  so  merrily  and  madly 
Danced  at  Hiawatha's  wedding, 
Danced  the  Beggars'  Dance  to  please  them. 

Now,  in  search  of  new  adventures, 
From  his  lodge  went  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Came  with  speed  into  the  village, 
Found  the  young  men  all  assembled 
[250] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

In  the  lodge  of  old  lagoo, 
Listening  to  his  monstrous  stories, 
To  his  wonderful  adventures. 

He  was  telling  them  the  story 
Of  Ojeeg,  the  Summer-Maker, 
How  he  made  a  hole  in  heaven, 
How  he  climbed  up  into  heaven, 
And  let  out  the  summer-weather, 
The  perpetual,  pleasant  Summer; 
How  the  Otter  first  essayed  it; 
How  the  Beaver,  Lynx,  and  Badger, 
Tried  in  turn  the  great  achievement, 
From  the  summit  of  the  mountain 
Smote  their  fists  against  the  heavens, 
Smote  against  the  sky  their  foreheads, 
Cracked  the  sky,  but  could  not  break  it, 
How  the  Wolverine,  uprising, 
Made  him  ready  for  the  encounter, 
Bent  his  knees  down,  like  a  squirrel, 
Drew  his  arms  back,  like  a  cricket. 

"Once  he  leaped,"  said  old  lagoo, 
"Once  he  leaped,  and  lo !  above  him 
Bent  the  sky,  as  ice  in  rivers 
When  the  waters  rise  beneath  it; 
Twice  he  leaped,  and  lo !  above  him 
Cracked  the  sky,  as  ice  in  rivers 
[251] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

When  the  freshet  is  at  highest ! 
Thrice  he  leaped,  and  lo !  above  him 
Broke  the  shattered  sky  asunder, 
And  he  disappeared  within  it, 
And  Ojeeg,  the  Fisher  Weasel, 
With  a  bound  went  in  behind  him!" 

"Hark  you!"  shouted  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
As  he  entered  at  the  doorway; 
"I  am  tired  of  all  this  talking, 
Tired  of  old  lagoo's  stories, 
Tired  of  Hiawatha's  wisdom. 
Here  is  something  to  amuse  you, 
Better  than  this  endless  talking." 

Then  from  out  his  pouch  of  wolf-skin 
Forth  he  drew,  with  solemn  manner, 
All  the  game  of  Bowl  and  Counters, 
Pugasaing,  with  thirteen  pieces. 
White  on  one  side  were  they  painted, 
And  vermilion  on  the  other; 
Two  Kenabeeks  or  great  serpents, 
Two  Ininewug  or  wedge-men, 
One  great  war-club,  Pugamaugun, 
And  one  slender  fish,  the  Keego, 
Four  round  pieces,  Ozawabeeks, 
And  three  Sheshebwug  or  ducklings. 
All  were  made  of  bone  and  painted, 
[252] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

All  except  the  Ozawabeeks ; 

These  were  brass,  on  one  side  burnished, 

And  were  black  upon  the  other. 

In  a  wooden  bowl  he  placed  them, 
Shook  and  jostled  them  together, 
Threw  them  on  the  ground  before  him. 
Thus  exclaiming  and  explaining: 
"Red  side  up  are  all  the  pieces, 
And  one  great  Kenabeek  standing 
On  the  bright  side  of  a  brass  piece, 
On  a  burnished  Ozawabeek; 
Thirteen  tens  and  eight  are  counted." 

Then  again  he  shook  the  pieces, 
Shook  and  jostled  them  together, 
Threw  them  on  the  ground  before  him, 
Still  exclaiming  and  explaining: 
"White  are  both  the  great  Kenabeeks, 
White  the  Ininewug,  the  wedge-men, 
Red  are  all  the  other  pieces; 
Five  tens  and  an  eight  are  counted." 
Thus  he  taught  the  game  of  hazard, 
Thus  displayed  it  and  explained  it, 
Running  through  its  various  chances, 
Various  changes,  various  meanings: 
Twenty  curious  eyes  stared  at  him, 
Full  of  eagerness  stared  at  him. 
[253] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"Many  games,"  said  old  lagoo, 
"Many  games  of  skill  and  hazard 
Have  I  seen  in  different  nations, 
Have  I  played  in  different  countries. 
He  who  plays  with  old  lagoo 
Must  have  very  nimble  fingers ; 
Though  you  think  yourself  so  skillful 
I  can  beat  you,  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
I  can  even  give  you  lessons 
In  your  game  of  Bowl  and  Counters!" 

So  they  sat  and  played  together, 
All  the  old  men  and  the  young  men, 
Played  for  dresses,  weapons,  wampum, 
Played  till  midnight,  played  till  morning, 
Played  until  the  Yenadizze, 
Till  the  cunning  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Of  their  treasures  had  despoiled  them, 
Of  the  best  of  all  their  dresses, 
Shirts  of  deer-skin,  robes  of  ermine, 
Belts  of  wampum,  crests  of  feathers, 
Warlike  weapons,  pipes  and  pouches. 
Twenty  eyes  glared  wildly  at  him, 
Like  the  eyes  of  wolves  glared  at  him. 

Said  the  lucky  Pau-Puk-Keewis : 
"In  my  wigwam  I  am  lonely, 
In  my  wanderings  and  adventures 
[254] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

I  have  need  of  a  companion, 
Fain  would  have  a  Meshinauwa, 
An  attendant  and  pipe-bearer. 
I  will  venture  all  these  winnings, 
All  these  garments  heaped  about  me, 
All  this  wampum,  all  these  feathers, 
On  a  single  throw  will  venture 
All  against  the  young  man  yonder!" 
'Twas  a  youth  of  sixteen  summers, 
'Twas  a  nephew  of  lagoo; 
Face-in-a-Mist,  the  people  called  him. 

As  the  fire  burns  in  a  pipe-head 
Dusky  red  beneath  the  ashes, 
So  beneath  his  shaggy  eyebrows 
Glowed  the  eyes  of  old  lagoo. 
"Ugh!"  he  answered  very  fiercely: 
"Ugh!"  they  answered  all  and  each  one. 

Seized  the  wooden  bowl  the  old  man, 
Closely  in  his  bony  fingers 
Clutched  the  fatal  bowl,  Onagon, 
Shook  it  fiercely  and  with  fury, 
Made  the  pieces  ring  together 
As  he  threw  them  down  before  him. 

Red  were  both  the  great  Kenabeeks, 
Red  the  Ininewug,  the  wedge-men. 
Red  the  Sheshebwug,  the  ducklings, 
[255] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Black  the  four  brass  Ozawabeeks, 
White  alone  the  fish,  the  Keego; 
Only  five  the  pieces  counted! 

Then  the  smiling  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Shook  the  bowl  and  threw  the  pieces ; 
Lightly  in  the  air  he  tossed  them, 
And  they  fell  about  him  scattered ; 
Dark  and  bright  the  Ozawabeeks, 
Red  and  white  the  other  pieces, 
And  upright  among  the  others 
One  Ininewug  was  standing, 
Even  as  crafty  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Stood  alone  among  the  players, 
Saying,  "Five  tens!  mine  the  game  is!" 

Twenty  eyes  glared  at  him  fiercely, 
Like  the  eyes  of  wolves  glared  at  him, 
As  he  turned  and  left  the  wigwam. 
Followed  by  his  Meshinauwa, 
By  the  nephew  of  lagoo, 
By  the  tall  and  graceful  stripling, 
Bearing  in  his  arms  the  winnings, 
Shirts  of  deer-skin,  robes  of  ermine, 
Belts  of  wampum,  pipes  and  weapons. 

"Carry  them,"  said  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Pointing  with  his  fan  of  feathers, 
"To  my  wigwam  far  to  eastward, 
[256] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

On  the  dunes  of  Nagow  Wudjoo!" 

Hot  and  red  with  smoke  and  gambling 
Were  the  eyes  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
As  he  came  forth  to  the  freshness 
Of  the  pleasant  summer  morning. 
All  the  birds  were  singing  gayly, 
All  the  streamlets  flowing  swiftly. 
And  the  heart  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Sang  with  pleasure  as  the  birds  sing, 
Beat  with  triumph  like  the  streamlets, 
As  he  wandered  through  the  village, 
In  the  early  gray  of  morning, 
With  his  fan  of  turkey-feathers, 
With  his  plumes  and  tufts  of  swan's  down, 
Till  he  reached  the  farthest  wigwama 
Reached  the  lodge  of  Hiawatha. 

Silent  was  it  and  deserted; 
No  one  met  him  at  the  doorway, 
No  one  came  to  bid  him  welcome. 
But  the  birds  were  singing  round  it, 
In  and  out  and  round  the  doorway, 
Hopping,  singing,  fluttering,  feeding, — 
And  aloft  upon  the  ridge-pole 
Kahgahgee,  the  King  of  Ravens, 
Sat  with  fiery  eyes,  and,  screaming, 
Flapped  his  wings  at  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
[257] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"All  are  gone!  the  lodge  is  empty!" 
Thus  it  was  spake  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
In  his  heart  resolving  mischief; 

"Gone  is  wary  Hiawatha, 
Gone  the  silly  Laughing  Water, 
Gone  Nokomis,  the  old  woman, 
And  the  lodge  is  left  unguarded!" 

By  the  neck  he  seized  the  raven. 
Whirled  it  round  him  like  a  rattle, 
Like  a  medicine-pouch  he  shook  it, 
Strangled  Kahgahgee,  the  raven, 
From  the  ridge-pole  of  the  wigwam 
Left  its  lifeless  body  hanging, 
As  an  insult  to  its  master, 
As  a  taunt  to  Hiawatha. 

With  a  stealthy  step  he  entered, 
Round  the  lodge  in  wild  disorder 
Threw  the  household  things  about  him, 
Piled  together  in  confusion 
Bowls  of  wood  and  earthen  kettles, 
Robes  of  buffalo  and  beaver, 
Skins  of  otter,  lynx,  and  ermine, 
As  an  insult  to  Nokomis, 
As  a  taunt  to  Minnehaha. 

Then  departed  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Whistling,  singing  through  the  forest, 
[258] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Whistling  gayly  to  the  squirrels, 
Who  from  hollow  boughs  above  him 
Dropped  their  acorn-shells  upon  him, 
Singing  gayly  to  the  wood  birds, 
Who  from  out  the  leafy  darkness 
Answered  with  a  song  as  merry. 

Then  he  climbed  the  rocky  headlands, 
Looking  o'er  the  Gitche  Gumee, 
Perched  himself  upon  their  summit, 
Waiting  full  of  mirth  and  mischief 
The  return  of  Hiawatha. 

Stretched  upon  his  back  he  lay  there ; 
Far  below  him  plashed  the  waters, 
Plashed  and  washed  the  dreamy  waters; 
Far  above  him  swam  the  heavens, 
Swam  the  dizzy,  dreamy  heavens; 
Round  him  hovered,  fluttered,  rustled, 
Hiawatha's  mountain  chickens, 
Flock-wise  swept  and  wheeled  about  him, 
Almost  brushed  him  with  their  pinions. 

And  he  killed  them  as  he  lay  there, 
Slaughtered  them  by  tens  and  twenties, 
Threw  their  bodies  down  the  headland, 
Threw  them  on  the  beach  below  him, 
Till  at  length  Kayoshk,  the  sea-gull, 
Perched  upon  a  crag  above  them, 
[259] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Shouted:    "It  is  Pau-Puk-Keewis ! 
He  is  slaying  us  by  hundreds ! 
Send  a  message  to  our  brother, 
Tidings  send  to  Hiawatha!" 

XVII 

THE  HUNTING  OF  PAU-PUK-KEEWIS 

FULL  of  wrath  was  Hiawatha 
When  he  came  into  the  village, 
Found  the  people  in  confusion, 
Heard  of  all  the  misdemeanors, 
All  the  malice  and  the  mischief, 
Of  the  cunning  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 

Hard  his  breath  came  through  his  nostrils, 
Through  his  teeth  he  buzzed  and  muttered 
Words  of  anger  and  resentment, 
Hot  and  humming  like  a  hornet, 
"I  will  slay  this  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Slay  this  mischief-maker!"  said  he. 
"Not  so  long  and  wide  the  world  is, 
Not  so  rude  and  rough  the  way  is, 
That  my  wrath  shall  not  attain  him, 
That  my  vengeance  shall  not  reach  him!" 

Then  in  swift  pursuit  departed, 
Hiawatha  and  the  hunters 
[260] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

On  the  trail  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Through  the  forest,  where  he  passed  it, 
To  the  headlands  where  he  rested; 
But  they  found  not  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Only  in  the  trampled  grasses, 
In  the  whortleberry  bushes, 
Found  the  couch  where  he  had  rested, 
Found  the  impress  of  his  body. 

From  the  lowlands  far  beneath  them, 
From  the  Muskoday,  the  meadow, 
Pau-Puk-Keewis,  turning  backward, 
Made  a  gesture  of  defiance, 
Made  a  gesture  of  derision; 
And  aloud  cried  Hiawatha, 
From  the  summit  of  the  mountain : 
"Not  so  long  and  wide  the  world  is, 
Not  so  rude  and  rough  the  way  is, 
But  my  wrath  shall  overtake  you, 
And  my  vengeance  shall  attain  you!" 

Over  rock  and  over  river, 
Through  bush,  and  break,  and  forest, 
Ran  the  cunning  Pau-Puk-Keewis; 
Like  an  antelope  he  bounded, 
Till  he  came  into  a  streamlet 
In  the  middle  of  the  forest, 
To  a  streamlet  still  and  tranquil, 
[261] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

That  had  overflowed  its  margin, 

To  a  dam  made  by  the  beavers, 

To  a  pond  of  quiet  waters, 

Where  knee-deep  the  trees  were  standing, 

Where  the  water-lilies  floated, 

Where  the  rushes  waved  and  whispered. 

On  the  dam  stood  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
On  the  dam  of  trunks  and  branches, 
Through  whose  chinks  the  water  spouted, 
O'er  whose  summit  flowed  the  streamlet. 
From  the  bottom  rose  the  beaver, 
Looked  with  two  great  eyes  of  wonder, 
Eyes  that  seemed  to  ask  a  question, 
At  the  stranger,  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 

On  the  dam  stood  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
O'er  his  ankles  flowed  the  streamlet, 
Flowed  the  bright  and  silvery  water, 
And  he  spake  unto  the  beaver, 
With  a  smile  he  spake  in  this  wise : 

"O  my  friend  Ahmeek,  the  beaver, 
Cool  and  pleasant  is  the  water; 
Let  me  dive  into  the  water, 
Let  me  rest  there  in  your  lodges ; 
Change  me,  too,  into  a  beaver!" 

Cautiously  replied  the  beaver, 

With  reserve  he  thus  made  answer: 

[262] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"Let  me  first  consult  the  others, 
Let  me  ask  the  other  beavers." 
Down  he  sank  into  the  water, 
Heavily  sank  he,  as  a  stone  sinks, 
Down  among  the  leaves  and  branches, 
Brown  and  matted  at  the  bottom. 

On  the  dam  stood  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
O'er  his  ankles  flowed  the  streamlet, 
Spouted  through  the  chinks  below  him, 
Dashed  upon  the  stones  beneath  him, 
Spread  serene  and  calm  before  him, 
And  the  sunshine  and  the  shadows 
Fell  in  flecks  and  gleams  upon  him, 
Fell  in  little  shining  patches, 
Through  the  waving,  rustling  branches. 

From  the  bottom  rose  the  beavers, 
Silently  above  the  surface 
Rose  one  head  and  then  another, 
Till  the  pond  seemed  full  of  beavers, 
Full  of  black  and  shining  faces. 

To  the  beavers  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Spake  entreating,  said  in  this  wise : 
"Very  pleasant  is  your  dwelling, 
O  my  friends!  and  safe  from  danger; 
Can  you  not  with  all  your  cunning, 
All  your  wisdom  and  contrivance, 
[263] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Change  me,  too,  into  a  beaver*?" 

"Yes !"  replied  Ahmeek,  the  beaver, 
He  the  King  of  all  the  beavers, 
"Let  yourself  slide  down  among  us, 
Down  into  the  tranquil  water." 

Down  into  the  pond  among  them 
Silently  sank  Pau-Puk-Kee wis ; 
Black  became  his  shirt  of  deer-skin, 
Black  his  moccasins  and  leggings, 
In  a  broad  black  tail  behind  him 
Spread  his  fox-tail  and  his  fringes ; 
He  was  changed  into  a  beaver. 

"Make  me  large,"  said  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
"Make  me  large  and  make  me  larger, 
Larger  than  the  other  beavers." 
"Yes,"  the  beaver  chief  responded, 
"When  our  lodge  below  you  enter, 
In  our  wigwam  we  will  make  you 
Ten  times  larger  than  the  others." 

Thus  into  the  clear  brown  water 
Silently  sank  Pau-Puk-Keewis; 
Found  the  bottom  covered  over 
With  the  trunks  of  trees  and  branches, 
Hoards  of  food  against  the  winter, 
Piles  and  heaps  against  the  famine ; 
Found  the  lodge  with  arching  doorway, 
[264] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Leading  into  spacious  chambers. 

Here  they  made  him  large  and  larger, 
Made  him  largest  of  the  beavers, 
Ten  times  larger  than  the  others. 
"You  shall  be  our  ruler,"  said  they; 
"Chief  and  King  of  all  the  beavers." 

But  not  long  had  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Sat  in  state  among  the  beavers 
When  there  came  a  voice  of  warning 
From  the  watchman  at  his  station 
In  the  water-flags  and  lilies, 
Saying,  "Here  is  Hiawatha! 
Hiawatha  with  his  hunters!" 

Then  they  heard  a  cry  above  them, 
Heard  a  shouting  and  a  tramping, 
Heard  a  crashing  and  a  rushing, 
And  the  water  round  and  o'er  them 
Sank  and  sucked  away  in  eddies, 
And  they  knew  their  dam  was  broken. 

On  the  lodge's  roof  the  hunters 
Leaped,  and  broke  it  all  asunder; 
Streamed  the  sunshine  through  the  crevice, 
Sprang  the  beavers  through  the  doorway, 
Hid  themselves  in  deeper  water, 
In  the  channel  of  the  streamlet; 
But  the  mighty  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
[265] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Could  not  pass  beneath  the  doorway; 
He  was  puffed  with  pride  and  feeding, 
He  was  swollen  like  a  bladder. 

Through  the  roof  looked  Hiawatha, 
Cried  aloud,  "O  Pau-Puk-Keewis ! 
Vain  are  all  your  craft  and  cunning, 
Vain  your  manifold  disguises ! 
Well  I  know  you,  Pau-Puk-Keewis!" 

With  their  clubs  they  beat  and  bruised  him, 
Beat  to  death  poor  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Pounded  him  as  maize  is  pounded, 
Till  his  skull  was  crushed  to  pieces. 

Six  tall  hunters,  lithe  and  limber, 
Bore  him  home  on  poles  and  branches, 
Bore  the  body  of  the  beaver ; 
But  the  ghost,  the  Jeebi  in  him, 
Thought  and  felt  as  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Still  lived  on  as  Pau-Puk-Keewis. 

And  it  fluttered,  strove,  and  struggled, 
Waving  hither,  waving  thither, 
As  the  curtains  of  a  wigwam 
Struggle  with  their  thongs  of  deer-skin, 
When  the  wintry  wind  is  blowing; 
Till  it  drew  itself  together, 
Till  it  rose  up  from  the  body, 
Till  it  took  the  form  and  features 
[266] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Of  the  cunning  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Vanishing  into  the  forest. 

But  the  wary  Hiawatha 
Saw  the  figure  ere  it  vanished, 
Saw  the  form  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Glide  into  the  soft  blue  shadow 
Of  the  pine-trees  of  the  forest; 
Toward  the  squares  of  white  beyond  it, 
Toward  an  opening  in  the  forest, 
Like  a  wind  it  rushed  and  panted, 
Bending  all  the  boughs  before  it, 
And  behind  it,  as  the  rain  comes, 
Came  the  steps  of  Hiawatha. 

To  a  lake  with  many  islands 
Came  the  breathless  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Where  among  the  water-lilies 
Pishnekuh,  the  brant,  were  sailing; 
Through  the  tufts  of  rushes  floating, 
Steering  through  the  reedy  islands, 
Now  their  broad  black  beaks  they  lifted, 
Now  they  plunged  beneath  the  water, 
Now  they  darkened  in  the  shadow, 
Now  they  brightened  in  the  sunshine. 

"Pishnekuh!"  cried  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
"Pishnekuh!  my  brothers !"  said  he, 
"Change  me  to  a  brant  with  plumage, 
[267] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

With  a  shining  neck  and  feathers, 
Make  me  large,  and  make  me  larger, 
Ten  times  larger  than  the  others." 

Straightway  to  a  brant  they  changed  him, 
With  two  huge  and  dusky  pinions, 
With  a  bosom  smooth  and  rounded, 
With  a  bill  like  two  great  paddles, 
Made  him  larger  than  the  others, 
Ten  times  larger  than  the  largest, 
Just  as,  shouting  from  the  forest:, 
On  the  shore  stood  Hiawatha. 

Up  they  rose  with  cry  and  clamor, 
With  a  whir  and  beat  of  pinions, 
Rose  up  from  the  reedy  islands, 
From  the  water-flags  and  lilies. 
And  they  said  to  Pau-Puk-Keewis : 
"In  your  flying,  look  not  downward. 
Take  good  heed,  and  look  not  downward, 
Lest  some  strange  mischance  should  happen, 
Lest  some  great  mishap  befall  you !" 

Fast  and  far  they  fled  to  northward, 
Fast  and  far  through  mist  and  sunshine, 
Fed  among  the  moors  and  fen-lands, 
Slept  among  the  reeds  and  rushes. 

On  the  morrow  as  they  journeyed, 
Buoyed  and  lifted  by  the  South-wind, 
[  268  ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Wafted  onward  by  the  South-wind, 
Blowing  fresh  and  strong  behind  them, 
Rose  a  sound  of  human  voices, 
Rose  a  clamor  from  beneath  them. 
From  the  lodges  of  a  village, 
From  the  people  miles  beneath  them. 

For  the  people  of  the  village 
Saw  the  flock  of  brant  with  wonder, 
Sawr  the  wings  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Flapping  far  up  in  the  ether, 
Broader  than  two  doorway  curtains. 

Pau-Puk-Keewis  heard  the  shouting, 
Knew  the  voice  of  Hiawatha, 
Knew  the  outcry  of  lagoo, 
And,  forgetful  of  the  warning, 
Drew  his  neck  in,  and  looked  downward, 
And  the  wind  that  blew  behind  him 
Caught  his  mighty  fan  of  feathers, 
Sent  him  wheeling,  whirling  downward. 

All  in  vain  did  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Struggle  to  regain  his  balance ; 
Whirling  round  and  round  and  downward, 
He  beheld  in  turn  the  village 
And  in  turn  the  flock  above  him, 
Saw  the  village  coming  nearer, 
And  the  flock  receding  f  arthera 
[269] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Heard  the  voices  growing  louder, 
Heard  the  shouting  and  the  laughter; 
Saw  no  more  the  flock  above  him, 
Only  saw  the  earth  beneath  him; 
Dead  out  of  the  empty  heaven, 
Dead  among  the  shouting  people, 
With  a  heavy  sound  and  sullen, 
Fell  the  brant  with  broken  pinions. 

But  his  soul,  his  ghost,  his  shadow, 
Still  survived  as  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Took  again  the  form  and  features 
Of  the  handsome  Yenadizze, 
And  again  went  rushing  onward, 
Followed  fast  by  Hiawatha, 
Crying :    "Not  so  wide  the  world  is, 
Not  so  long  and  rough  the  way  is, 
But  my  wrath  shall  overtake  you, 
But  my  vengeance  shall  attain  you!" 

And  so  near  he  came,  so  near  him, 
That  his  hand  was  stretched  to  seize  him, 
His  right  hand  to  seize  and  hold  him, 
When  the  cunning  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Whirled  and  spun  about  in  circles, 
Fanned  the  air  into  a  whirlwind, 
Danced  the  dust  and  leaves  about  him, 
And  amid  the  whirling  eddies 
[270] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Sprang  into  a  hollow  oak-tree, 
Changed  himself  into  a  serpent. 
Gliding  out  through  root  and  rubbish. 

With  his  right  hand  Hiawatha 
Smote  amain  the  hollow  oak-tree, 
Rent  it  into  shreds  and  splinters, 
Left  it  lying  there  in  fragments. 
But  in  vain ;  for  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Once  again  in  human  figure, 
Full  in  sight  ran  on  before  him, 
Sped  away  in  gust  and  whirlwind, 
On  the  shores  of  Gitche  Gumee, 
Westward  by  the  Big-Sea-Water, 
Came  unto  the  rocky  headlands, 
To  the  Pictured  Rocks  of  sand-stone, 
Looking  over  lake  and  landscape. 
And  the  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain, 
He  the  Manito  of  Mountains, 
Opened  wide  his  rocky  doorways. 
Opened  wide  his  deep  abysses, 
Giving  Pau-Puk-Keewis  shelter 
In  his  caverns  dark  and  dreary, 
Bidding  Pau-Puk-Keewis  welcome 
To  his  gloomy  lodge  of  sandstone. 

There  without  stood  Hiawatha, 
Found  the  doorways  closed  against  him, 
[271] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

With  his  mittens,  Minjekahwun, 
Smote  great  caverns  in  the  sandstone, 
Cried  aloud  in  tones  of  thunder, 
"Open !  I  am  Hiawatha!" 
But  the  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain 
Opened  not,  and  made  no  answer 
From  the  silent  crags  of  sandstone, 
From  the  gloomy  rock  abysses. 

Then  he  raised  his  hands  to  heaven, 
Called  imploring  on  the  tempest, 
Called  Waywassimo,  the  lightning, 
And  the  thunder,  Annemeekee ; 
And  they  came  with  night  and  darkness 
Sweeping  down  the  Big-Sea-Water 
From  the  distant  Thunder  Mountains; 
And  the  trembling  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Heard  the  footsteps  of  the  thunder, 
Saw  the  red  eyes  of  the  lightning, 
Was  afraid,  and  crouched  and  trembled. 

Then  Waywassimo,  the  lightning, 
Smote  the  doorways  of  the  caverns, 
With  his  war-club  smote  the  doorways, 
Smote  the  jutting  crags  of  sandstone, 
And  the  thunder,  Annemeekee, 
Shouted  down  into  the  caverns, 
Saying,  "Where  is  Pau-Puk-Keewis!" 
[272] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

And  the  crags  fell,  and  beneath  them 
Dead  among  the  rocky  ruins 
Lay  the  cunning  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Lay  the  handsome  Yenadizze, 
Slain  in  his  own  human  figure. 

Ended  were  his  wild  adventures, 
Ended  were  his  tricks  and  gambols, 
Ended  all  his  craft  and  cunning, 
Ended  all  his  mischief-making, 
All  his  gambling  and  his  dancing, 
All  his  wooing  of  the  maidens. 

Then  the  noble  Hiawatha 
Took  his  soul,  his  ghost,  his  shadow, 
Spake  and  said:    "O  Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
Never  more  in  human  figure 
Shall  you  search  for  new  adventures; 
Never  more  with  jest  and  laughter 
Dance  the  dust  and  leaves  in  whirlwinds; 
But  above  there  in  the  heavens 
You  shall  soar  and  sail  in  circles; 
I  will  change  you  to  an  eagle, 
To  Keneu,  the  great  war-eagle, 
Chief  of  all  the  fowls  with  feathers, 
Chief  of  Hiawatha's  chickens." 

And  the  name  of  Pau-Puk-Keewis 
Lingers  still  among  the  people, 
[273] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Lingers  still  among  the  singers, 

And  among  the  story-tellers; 

And  in  Winter,  when  the  snow-flakes 

Whirl  in  eddies  round  the  lodges, 

When  the  wind  in  gusty  tumult 

O'er  the  smoke-flue  pipes  and  whistles, 

"There,"  they  cry,  "comes  Pau-Puk-Keewis 

He  is  dancing  through  the  village, 

He  is  gathering  in  his  harvest!" 

XVIII 

THE  DEATH  OF  KWASIND 

FAR  and  wide  among  the  nations 
Spread  the  name  and  fame  of  Kwasind ; 
No  man  dared  to  strive  with  Kwasind, 
No  man  could  compete  with  Kwasind. 
But  the  mischievous  Puk-Wudjies, 
They  the  envious  Little  People, 
They  the  fairies  and  the  pygmies, 
Plotted  and  conspired  against  him. 

"If  the  hateful  Kwasind,"  said  they, 
c"If  this  great,  outrageous  fellow 
Goes  on  thus  a  little  longer, 
Tearing  everything  he  touches, 
[274] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Rending  everything  to  pieces, 
Filling  all  the  world  with  wonder, 
What  becomes  of  the  Puk-Wudjies ! 
Who  will  care  for  the  Puk-Wudjies! 
He  will  tread  us  down  like  mushrooms, 
Drive  us  all  into  the  water, 
Give  our  bodies  to  be  eaten 
By  the  wicked  Nee-ba-naw-baigs, 
By  the  Spirits  of  the  water!" 

So  the  angry  Little  People 
All  conspired  against  the  Strong  Man, 
All  conspired  to  murder  Kwasind, 
Yes,  to  rid  the  world  of  Kwasind, 
The  audacious,  overbearing, 
Heartless,  haughty,  dangerous  Kwasind! 

Now  this  wondrous  strength  of  Kwasind 
In  his  crown  alone  was  seated; 
In  his  crown  too  was  his  weakness ; 
There  alone  could  he  be  wounded, 
Nowhere  else  could  weapon  pierce  him, 
Nowhere  else  could  weapon  harm  him. 

Even  there  the  only  weapon 
That  could  wound  him,  that  could  slay  him, 
Was  the  seed-cone  of  the  pine-tree, 
Was  the  blue  cone  of  the  fir-tree. 
[275] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

This  was  Kwasind's  fatal  secret, 
Known  to  no  man  among  mortals ; 
But  the  cunning  Little  People, 
The  Puk-Wudjies,  knew  the  secret, 
Knew  the  only  way  to  kill  him. 

So  they  gathered  cones  together, 
Gathered  seed-cones  of  the  pine-tree, 
Gathered  blue  cones  of  the  fir-tree, 
In  the  woods  by  Taquamenaw, 
Brought  them  to  the  river's  margin, 
Heaped  them  in  great  piles  together, 
Where  the  red  rocks  from  the  margin 
Jutting  overhang  the  river. 
There  they  lay  in  wait  for  Kwasind, 
The  malicious  Little  People. 

'Twas  an  afternoon  in  Summer; 
Very  hot  and  still  the  air  was, 
Very  smooth  the  gliding  river, 
Motionless  the  sleeping  shadows; 
Insects  glistened  in  the  sunshine, 
Insects  skated  on  the  water, 
Filled  the  drowsy  air  with  buzzing, 
With  a  far  resounding  war-cry. 

Down  the  river  came  the  Strong  Man, 
In  his  birch  canoe  came  Kwasind, 
Floating  slowly  down  the  current 
[276] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Of  the  sluggish  Taquamenaw, 
Very  languid  with  the  weather, 
Very  sleepy  with  the  silence. 

From  the  overhanging  branches, 
From  the  tassels  of  the  birch-trees, 
Soft  the  Spirit  of  Sleep  descended; 
By  his  airy  hosts  surrounded, 
His  invisible  attendants, 
Came  the  Spirit  of  Sleep,  Nepahwin; 
Like  the  burnished  Dush-kwo-ne-she, 
Like  a  dragon-fly,  he  hovered 
O'er  the  drowsy  head  of  Kwasind. 

To  his  ear  there  came  a  murmur 
As  of  waves  upon  a  sea-shore, 
As  of  far-off  tumbling  waters, 
As  of  winds  among  the  pine-trees; 
And  he  felt  upon  his  forehead 
Blows  of  little  airy  war-clubs, 
Wielded  by  the  slumbrous  legions 
Of  the  Spirit  of  Sleep,  Nepahwin, 
As  of  some  one  breathing  on  him. 

At  the  first  blow  of  their  war-clubs, 
Fell  a  drowsiness  on  Kwasind; 
At  the  second  blow  they  smote  him, 
Motionless  his  paddle  rested; 
At  the  third,  before  his  vision 
[277] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Reeled  the  landscape  into  darkness, 
Very  sound  asleep  was  Kwasind. 

So  he  floated  down  the  river, 
Like  a  blind  man  seated  upright, 
Floated  down  the  Taquamenaw. 
Underneath  the  trembling  birch-trees, 
Underneath  the  wooded  headlands. 
Underneath  the  war  encampment 
Of  the  pygmies,  the  Puk-Wudjies. 

There  they  stood,  all  armed  and  waiting, 
Hurled  the  pine-cones  down  upon  him, 
Struck  him  on  his  brawny  shoulders, 
On  his  crown  defenseless  struck  him. 
"Death  to  Kwasind!"  was  the  sudden 
War-cry  of  the  Little  People. 

And  he  sideways  swayed  and  tumbled, 
Sideways  fell  into  the  river, 
Plunged  beneath  the  sluggish  water 
Headlong,  as  an  otter  plunges; 
And  the  birch-canoe,  abandoned, 
Drifted  empty  down  the  river, 
Bottom  upward  swerved  and  drifted : 
Nothing  more  was  seen  of  Kwasind. 

But  the  memory  of  the  Strong  Man 
Lingered  long  among  the  people, 
And  whenever  through  the  forest 
[278] 


t 


i& 


'HURLED  THE  PINE-CONES  DOWN  UPON  HIM" — Page  278 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Raged  and  roared  the  wintry  tempest, 
And  the  branches,  tossed  and  troubled, 
Creaked  and  groaned  and  split  asunder, 
"Kwasind!"  cried  they;  "that  is  Kwasind! 
He  is  gathering  in  his  fire-wood!" 


XIX 

THE  GHOSTS 

NEVER  stoops  the  soaring  vulture 
On  his  quarry  in  the  desert, 
On  the  sick  or  wounded  bison, 
But  another  vulture,  watching 
From  his  high  aerial  look-out, 
Sees  the  downward  plunge,  and  follows; 
And  a  third  pursues  the  second, 
Coming  from  the  invisible  ether, 
First  a  speck,  and  then  a  vulture, 
Till  the  air  is  dark  with  pinions. 
So  disasters  come  not  singly; 
But  as  if  they  watched  and  waited, 
Scanning  one  another's  motions, 
When  the  first  descends,  the  others 
Follow,  follow,  gather  flock-wise 
Round  their  victim,  sick  and  wounded, 
[279] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

First  a  shadow,  then  a  sorrow, 
Till  the  air  is  dark  with  anguish. 

Now,  o'er  all  the  dreary  Northland, 
Mighty  Peboan,  the  Winter, 
Breathing  on  the  lakes  and  rivers, 
Into  stone  had  changed  their  waters. 
From  his  hair  he  shook  the  snowflakes. 
Till  the  plains  were  strewn  with  whiteness, 
One  uninterrupted  level, 
As  if,  stooping,  the  Creator 
With  his  hands  had  smoothed  them  over. 
Through  the  forest,  wide  and  wailing, 
Roamed  the  hunter  on  his  snow-shoes ; 
In  the  village  worked  the  women, 
Pounded  maize,  or  dressed  the  deer-skin; 
And  the  young  men  played  together 
On  the  ice  the  noisy  ball-play, 
On  the  plain  the  dance  of  snow-shoes. 

One  dark  evening,  after  sundown, 
In  her  wigwam  Laughing  Water 
Sat  with  old  Nokomis,  waiting 
For  the  steps  of  Hiawatha 
Homeward  from  the  hunt  returning. 

On  their  faces  gleamed  the  fire-light, 
Painting  them  with  streaks  of  crimson, 
In  the  eyes  of  old  Nokomis 
[280] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Glimmered  like  the  watery  moonlight, 
In  the  eyes  of  Laughing  Water 
Glistened  like  the  sun  in  water; 
And  behind  them  crouched  their  shadows 
In  the  corners  of  the  wigwam, 
And  the  smoke  in  wreaths  above  them 
Climbed  and  crowded  through  the  smoke-flue. 

Then  the  curtain  of  the  doorway 
From  without  was  slowly  lifted; 
Brighter  glowed  the  fire  a  moment, 
And  a  moment  swerved  the  smoke-wreath, 
As  two  women  entered  softly, 
Passed  the  doorway  uninvited, 
Without  word  of  salutation, 
Without  sign  of  recognition, 
Sat  down  in  the  farthest  corner, 
Crouching  low  among  the  shadows. 

From  their  aspect  and  their  garments, 
Strangers  seemed  they  in  the  village; 
Very  pale  and  haggard  were  they, 
As  they  sat  there  sad  and  silent, 
Trembling,  cowering  with  the  shadows. 

Was  it  the  wind  above  the  smoke-flue, 
Muttering  down  into  the  wigwam*? 
Was  it  the  owl,  the  Koko-koho, 

[281] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Hooting  from  the  dismal  forest? 
Sure  a  voice  said  in  the  silence : 
"These  are  corpses  clad  in  garments, 
These  are  ghosts  that  come  to  haunt  you, 
From  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
From  the  land  of  the  Hereafter!" 

Homeward  now  came  Hiawatha, 
From  his  hunting  in  the  forest, 
With  the  snow  upon  his  tresses, 
And  the  red  deer  on  his  shoulders. 
At  the  feet  of  Laughing  Water 
Down  he  threw  his  lifeless  burden; 
Nobler,  handsomer  she  thought  him 
Than  when  he  first  came  to  woo  her, 
First  threw  down  the  deer  before  her, 
As  a  token  of  his  wishes, 
As  a  promise  of  the  future. 

Then  he  turned  and  saw  the  strangers, 
Cowering,  crouching  with  the  shadows, 
Said  within  himself,  "Who  are  they? 
What  strange  guests  has  Minnehaha?" 
But  he  questioned  not  the  strangers, 
Only  spake  to  bid  them  welcome 
To  his  lodge,  his  food,  his  fireside. 

When  the  evening  meal  was  ready, 

And  the  deer  had  been  divided, 

[282] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Both  the  pallid  guests,  the  strangers, 
Springing  from  among  the  shadows, 
Seized  upon  the  choicest  portions, 
Seized  the  white  fat  of  the  roebuck, 
Set  apart  for  Laughing  Water, 
For  the  wife  of  Hiawatha; 
Without  asking,  without  thanking, 
Eagerly  devoured  the  morsels, 
Flitted  back  among  the  shadows 
In  the  corner  of  the  wigwam. 

Not  a  word  spake  Hiawatha, 
Not  a  motion  made  Nokomis, 
Not  a  gesture  Laughing  Water; 
Not  a  change  came  o'er  their  features, 
Only  Minnehaha  softly 
Whispered,  saying,  "They  are  famished; 
Let  them  do  what  best  delights  them; 
Let  them  eat,  for  they  are  famished." 

Many  a  daylight  dawned  and  darkened, 
Many  a  night  shook  off  the  daylight 
As  the  pine  shakes  off  the  snow-flakes 
From  the  midnight  of  its  branches; 
Day  by  day  the  guests  unmoving 
Sat  there  silent  in  the  wigwam; 
But  by  night,  in  storm  or  starlight, 
Forth  they  went  into  the  forest, 
[283] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Bringing  fire-wood  to  the  wigwam, 
Bringing  pine-cones  for  the  burning, 
Always  sad  and  always  silent. 

And  whenever  Hiawatha 
Came  from  fishing  or  from  hunting, 
When  the  evening  meal  was  ready, 
And  the  food  had  been  divided, 
Gliding  from  their  darksome  corner, 
Came  the  pallid  guests,  the  strangers, 
Seized  upon  the  choicest  portions 
Set  aside  for  Laughing  Water, 
And  without  rebuke  or  question 
Flitted  back  among  the  shadows. 

Never  once  had  Hiawatha 
By  a  word  or  look  reproved  them; 
Never  once  had  old  Nokomis 
Made  a  gesture  of  impatience; 
Never  once  had  Laughing  Water 
Shown  resentment  at  the  outrage. 
All  had  they  endured  in  silence, 
That  the  rights  of  guest  and  stranger, 
That  the  virtue  of  free-giving, 
By  a  look  might  not  be  lessened, 
By  a  word  might  not  be  broken. 

Once  at  midnight  Hiawatha, 
Ever  wakeful,  ever  watchful, 
[284] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

In  the  wigwam,  dimly  lighted 
By  the  brands  that  still  were  burning, 
By  the  glimmering,  flickering  firelight, 
Heard  a  sighing,  oft  repeated, 
Heard  a  sobbing,  as  of  sorrow. 

From  his  couch  rose  Hiawatha, 
From  his  shaggy  hides  of  bison, 
Pushed  aside  the  deer-skin  curtain, 
Saw  the  pallid  guests,  the  shadows, 
Sitting  upright  on  their  couches, 
Weeping  in  the  silent  midnight. 

And  he  said :    "O  guests !  why  is  it 
That  your  hearts  are  so  afflicted, 
That  you  sob  so  in  the  midnight? 
Has  perchance  the  old  Nokomis, 
Has  my  wife,  my  Minnehaha, 
Wronged  or  grieved  you  by  unkindness, 
Failed  in  hospitable  duties'?" 

Then  the  shadows  ceased  from  weeping, 
Ceased  from  sobbing  and  lamenting, 
And  they  said,  with  gentle  voices 
"We  are  ghosts  of  the  departed, 
Souls  of  those  who  once  were  with  you. 
From  the  realms  of  Chibiabos 
Hither  have  we  come  to  try  you, 
Hither  have  we  come  to  warn  you. 
[285] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"Cries  of  grief  and  lamentation 
Reach  us  in  the  Blessed  Islands; 
Cries  of  anguish  from  the  living, 
Calling  back  their  friends  departed, 
Sadden  us  with  useless  sorrow. 
Therefore  have  we  come  to  try  you; 
No  one  knows  us,  no  one  heeds  us. 
We  are  but  a  burden  to  you, 
And  we  see  that  the  departed 
Have  no  place  among  the  living. 

'Think  of  this,  O  Hiawatha! 
Speak  of  it  to  all  the  people, 
That  henceforward  and  forever 
They  no  more  with  lamentations 
Sadden  the  souls  of  the  departed 
In  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed. 

"Do  not  lay  such  heavy  burdens 
In  the  graves  of  those  you  bury, 
Not  such  weight  of  furs  and  wampum, 
Not  such  weight  of  pots  and  kettles, 
For  the  spirits  faint  beneath  them. 
Only  give  them  food  to  carry, 
Only  give  them  fire  to  light  them. 

"Four  days  is  the  spirit's  journey 

To  the  land  of  ghosts  and  shadows, 

[286] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Four  its  lonely  night  encampments; 
Four  times  must  their  fires  be  lighted. 
Therefore,  when  the  dead  are  buried, 
Let  a  fire,  as  night  approaches, 
Four  times  on  the  grave  be  kindled, 
That  the  soul  upon  its  journey 
May  not  lack  the  cheerful  fire-light, 
May  not  grope  about  in  darkness. 

"Farewell,  noble  Hiawatha! 
We  have  put  you  to  the  trial, 
To  the  proof  have  put  your  patience, 
By  the  insult  of  our  presence, 
By  the  outrage  of  our  actions. 
We  have  found  you  great  and  noble. 
Fail  not  in  the  greater  trial, 
Faint  not  in  the  harder  struggle." 

When  they  ceased,  a  sudden  darkness 
Fell  and  filled  the  silent  wigwam. 
Hiawatha  heard  a  rustle 
As  of  garments  trailing  by  him, 
Heard  the  curtain  of  the  doorway 
Lifted  by  a  hand  he  saw  not, 
Felt  the  cold  breath  of  the  night  air, 
For  a  moment  saw  the  starlight; 
But  he  saw  the  ghosts  no  longer, 
[287] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Saw  no  more  the  wandering  spirits 
From  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
From  the  land  of  the  Hereafter. 

XX 

THE  FAMINE 

OTHE  long  and  dreary  Winter! 
O  the  cold  and  cruel  Winter ! 
Ever  thicker,  thicker,  thicker 
Froze  the  ice  on  lake  and  river, 
Ever  deeper,  deeper,  deeper 
Fell  the  snow  o'er  all  the  landscape, 
Fell  the  covering  snow,  and  drifted 
Through  the  forest,  round  the  village. 

Hardly  from  his  buried  wigwam 
Could  the  hunter  force  a  passage ; 
With  his  mittens  and  his  snow-shoes 
Vainly  walked  he  through  the  forest, 
Sought  for  bird  or  beast  and  found  none, 
Saw  no  track  of  deer  or  rabbit, 
In  the  snow  beheld  no  footprints, 
In  the  ghastly,  gleaming  forest 
Fell,  and  could  not  rise  from  weakness. 
Perished  there  from  cold  and  hunger. 

O  the  famine  and  the  fever ! 
[288] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

O  the  wasting  of  the  famine ! 
O  the  blasting  of  the  fever! 
O  the  wailing  of  the  children ! 

0  the  anguish  of  the  women ! 

All  the  earth  was  sick  and  famished; 
Hungry  was  the  air  around  them, 
Hungry  was  the  sky  above  them, 
And  the  hungry  stars  in  heaven 
Like  the  eyes  of  wolves  glared  at  them ! 

Into  Hiawatha's  wigwam 
Came  two  other  guests,  as  silent 
As  the  ghosts  were,  and  as  gloomy, 
Waited  not  to  be  invited, 
Did  not  parley  at  the  doorway, 
Sat  there  without  word  of  welcome 
In  the  seat  of  Laughing  Water; 
Looked  with  haggard  eyes  and  hollow 
At  the  face  of  Laughing  Water. 
And  the  foremost  said :    "Behold  me ! 

1  am  Famine,  Bukadawin!" 

And  the  other  said :    "Behold  me! 
I  am  Fever,  Ahkosewin!" 

And  the  lovely  Minnehaha 
Shuddered  as  they  looked  upon  her, 
Shuddered  at  the  words  they  uttered, 

Lay  down  on  her  bed  in  silence, 

[289] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Hid  her  face,  but  made  no  answer; 
Lay  there  trembling,  freezing,  burning 
At  the  looks  they  cast  upon  her, 
At  the  fearful  words  they  uttered. 

Forth  into  the  empty  forest 
Rushed  the  maddened  Hiawatha; 
In  his  heart  was  deadly  sorrow, 
In  his  face  a  stony  firmness ; 
On  his  brow  the  sweat  of  anguish 
Started,  but  it  froze  and  fell  not. 

Wrapped  in  furs  and  armed  for  hunting, 
With  his  mighty  bow  of  ash-tree, 
With  his  quiver  full  of  arrows, 
With  his  mittens,  Minjekahwun, 
Into  the  vast  and  vacant  forest 
On  his  snow-shoes  strode  he  forward. 

"Gitche  Manito,  the  Mighty!" 
Cried  he  with  his  face  uplifted 
In  that  bitter  hour  of  anguish, 
"Give  your  children  food,  O  Father! 
Give  us  food,  or  we  must  perish! 
Give  me  food  for  Minnehaha, 
For  my  dying  Minnehaha!" 

Through  the  far-resounding  forest, 
Through  the  forest  vast  and  vacant 
Rang  that  cry  of  desolation, 
[290] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

But  there  came  no  other  answer 
Than  the  echo  of  his  crying, 
Than  the  echo  of  the  woodlands, 
"Minnehaha!    Minnehaha!" 

All  day  long  roved  Hiawatha 
In  that  melancholy  forest, 
Through  the  shadow  of  whose  thickets, 
In  the  pleasant  days  of  Summer, 
Of  that  ne'er  forgotten  Summer, 
He  had  brought  his  young  wife  homeward 
From  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs; 
When  the  birds  sang  in  the  thickets, 
And  the  streamlets  laughed  and  glistened, 
And  the  air  was  full  of  fragrance, 
And  the  lovely  Laughing  Water 
Said,  with  voice  that  did  not  tremble : 
"I  will  follow  you,  my  husband!" 

In  the  wigwam  with  Nokomis 
With  those  gloomy  guests,  that  watched  her, 
With  the  Famine  and  the  Fever, 
She  was  lying,  the  Beloved, 
She  the  dying  Minnehaha. 

"Hark!"  she  said;  "I  hear  a  rushing, 
Hear  a  roaring  and  a  rushing, 
Hear  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha 
Calling  to  me  from  a  distance !" 
[291  ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"No,  my  child!"  said  old  Nokomis, 
'Tis  the  night-wind  in  the  pine-trees !" 

"Look!"  she  said;  "I  see  my  father 

Standing  lonely  at  his  doorway, 

Beckoning  to  me  from  his  wigwam 

In  the  land  of  the  Dacotahs !" 

"No,  my  child!"  said  old  Nokomis, 
'Tis  the  smoke,  that  waves  and  beckons!" 
"Ah!"  said  she,  "the  eyes  of  Pauguk 

Glare  upon  me  in  the  darkness, 

I  can  feel  his  icy  fingers 

Clasping  mine  amid  the  darkness ! 

Hiawatha!  Hiawatha!" 

And  the  desolate  Hiawatha, 

Far  away  amid  the  forest, 

Miles  away  among  the  mountains, 

Heard  that  sudden  cry  of  anguish, 

Heard  the  voice  of  Minnehaha 

Calling  to  him  in  the  darkness, 

"Hiawatha!  Hiawatha!" 

Over  the  snow-fields  waste  and  pathless, 

Under  snow-encumbered  branches, 

Homeward  hurried  Hiawatha, 

Empty-handed,  heavy-hearted, 

Heard  Nokomis  moaning,  wailing: 

"Wahonowin !  Wahonowin ! 
[292] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Would  that  I  had  perished  for  you, 
Would  that  I  were  dead  as  you  are ! 
Wahonowin!  Wahonowin!" 

And  he  rushed  into  the  wigwam, 
Saw  the  old  Nokomis  slowly 
Rocking  to  and  fro  and  moaning, 
Saw  his  lovely  Minnehaha 
Lying  dead  and  cold  before  him, 
And  his  bursting  heart  within  him 
Uttered  such  a  cry  of  anguish 
That  the  forest  moaned  and  shuddered, 
That  the  very  stars  in  heaven 
Shook  and  trembled  with  his  anguish. 

Then  he  sat  down,  still  and  speechless, 
On  the  bed  of  Minnehaha, 
At  the  feet  of  Laughing  Water, 
At  those  willing  feet,  that  never 
More  would  lightly  run  to  meet  him, 
Never  more  would  lightly  follow. 

With  both  hands  his  face  he  covered, 
Seven  long  days  and  nights  he  sat  there, 
As  if  in  a  swoon  he  sat  there, 
Speechless,  motionless,  unconscious 
Of  the  daylight  or  the  darkness. 

Then  he  buried  Minnehaha; 
In  the  snow  a  grave  they  made  her, 
[293] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

In  the  forest  deep  and  darksome, 
Underneath  the  moaning  hemlocks ; 
Clothed  her  in  her  richest  garments, 
Wrapped  her  in  her  robes  of  ermine; 
Covered  her  with  snow,  like  ermine, 
Thus  they  buried  Minnehaha. 

And  at  night  a  fire  was  lighted, 
On  her  grave  four  times  was  kindled, 
For  her  soul  upon  its  journey 
To  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed. 
From  his  doorway  Hiawatha 
Saw  it  burning  in  the  forest, 
Lighting  up  the  gloomy  hemlocks ; 
From  his  sleepless  bed  uprising, 
From  the  bed  of  Minnehaha, 
Stood  and  watched  it  at  the  doorway, 
That  it  might  not  be  extinguished, 
Might  not  leave  her  in  the  darkness. 

"Farewell!"  said  he,  "Minnehaha! 
Farewell,  O  my  Laughing  Water ! 
All  my  heart  is  buried  with  you, 
All  my  thoughts  go  onward  with  you ! 
Come  not  back  again  to  labor, 
Come  not  back  again  to  suffer, 
Where  the  Famine  and  the  Fever 
Wear  the  heart  and  waste  the  body. 
[294] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Soon  my  task  will  be  completed, 
Soon  your  footsteps  I  shall  follow 
To  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed, 
To  the  Kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
To  the  Land  of  the  Hereafter!" 


XXI 

THE  WHITE  MAN'S  FOOT 

IN  his  lodge  beside  a  river, 
Close  beside  a  frozen  river, 
Sat  an  old  man,  sad  and  lonely. 
White  his  hair  was  as  a  snow-drift; 
Dull  and  low  his  fire  was  burning, 
And  the  old  man  shook  and  trembled, 
Folded  in  his  Waubewyon, 
In  his  tattered  white  skin-wrapper, 
Hearing  nothing  but  the  tempest 
As  it  roared  along  the  forest, 
Seeing  nothing  but  the  snow-storm, 
As  it  whirled  and  hissed  and  drifted. 
All  the  coals  were  white  with  ashes, 
And  the  fire  was  slowly  dying, 
As  a  young  man,  walking  lightly, 
At  the  open  doorway  entered. 
[295] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Red  with  blood  of  youth  his  cheeks  were, 
Soft  his  eyes,  as  stars  in  Spring-time, 
Bound  his  forehead  was  with  grasses, 
Bound  and  plumed  with  scented  grasses; 
On  his  lips  a  smile  of  beauty, 
Filling  all  the  lodge  with  sunshine, 
In  his  hand  a  bunch  of  blossoms 
Filling  all  the  lodge  with  sweetness. 

"Ah,  my  son !"  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
"Happy  are  my  eyes  to  see  you. 
Sit  here  on  the  mat  beside  me, 
Sit  here  by  the  dying  embers ; 
Let  us  pass  the  night  together. 
Tell  me  of  your  strange  adventures, 
Of  the  lands  where  you  have  travelled; 
I  will  tell  you  of  my  prowess, 
Of  my  many  deeds  of  wonder." 

From  his  pouch  he  drew  his  peace-pipe, 
Very  old  and  strangely  fashioned, 
Made  of  red  stone  was  the  pipe-head, 
And  the  stem  a  reed  with  feathers, 
Filled  the  pipe  with  bark  of  willow, 
Placed  a  burning  coal  upon  it, 
Gave  it  to  his  guest,  the  stranger; 
And  began  to  speak  in  this  wise : 

"When  I  blow  my  breath  about  me, 
[296] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

When  I  breathe  upon  the  landscape, 
Motionless  are  all  the  rivers, 
Hard  as  stone  becomes  the  water!" 

And  the  young  man  answered,  smiling: 
"When  I  blow  my  breath  about  me, 
When  I  breathe  upon  the  landscape, 
Flowers  spring  up  o'er  all  the  meadows, 
Singing,  onward  rush  the  rivers!" 

"When  I  shake  my  hoary  tresses," 
Said  the  old  man,  darkly  frowning, 
"All  the  land  with  snow  is  covered; 
All  the  leaves  from  all  the  branches 
Fall  and  fade  and  die  and  wither, 
For  I  breathe,  and  lo !  they  are  not. 
From  the  waters  and  the  marshes 
Rise  the  wild  goose  and  the  heron, 
Fly  away  to  distant  regions, 
For  I  speak,  and  lo !  they  are  not. 
And  where'er  my  footsteps  wander, 
All  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forest 
Hide  themselves  in  holes  and  caverns, 
And  the  earth  becomes  as  flint-stone!" 

"When  I  shake  my  flowing  ringlets," 
Said  the  young  man,  softly  laughing, 
"Showers  of  rain  fall  warm  and  welcome, 
Plants  lift  up  their  heads  rejoicing, 
[297] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Back  unto  their  lakes  and  marshes 
Come  the  wild  goose  and  the  heron, 
Homeward  shoots  the  arrowy  swallow, 
Sing  the  bluebird  and  the  robin, 
And  where'er  my  footsteps  wander, 
All  the  meadows  wave  with  blossoms, 
All  the  woodlands  ring  with  music, 
All  the  trees  are  dark  with  foliage!" 

While  they  spake,  the  night  departed; 
From  the  distant  realms  of  Wabun, 
From  his  shining  lodge  of  silver, 
Like  a  warrior  robed  and  painted, 
Came  the  sun,  and  said,  "Behold  me ! 
Gheezis,  the  great  sun,  behold  me!" 

Then  the  old  man's  tongue  was  speechless. 
And  the  air  grew  warm  and  pleasant, 
And  upon  the  wigwam  sweetly 
Sang  the  bluebird  and  the  robin, 
And  the  stream  began  to  murmur, 
And  a  scent  of  growing  grasses 
Through  the  lodge  was  gently  wafted. 

And  Segwun,  the  youthful  stranger, 
More  distinctly  in  the  daylight 
Saw  the  icy  face  before  him : 
It  was  Peboan,  the  Winter ! 

From  his  eyes  the  tears  were  flowing, 
[298] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

As  from  melting  lakes  the  streamlets, 

And  his  body  shrank  and  dwindled 

As  the  shouting  sun  ascended, 

Till  into  the  air  it  faded, 

Till  into  the  ground  it  vanished, 

And  the  young  man  saw  before  him, 

On  the  hearth-stone  of  the  wigwam, 

Where  the  fire  had  smoked  and  smouldered, 

Saw  the  earliest  flower  of  Spring-time 

Saw  the  beauty  of  the  Spring-time. 

Saw  the  Miskodeed  in  blossom. 

Thus  it  was  that  in  the  North-land 
After  that  unheard-of  coldness, 
That  intolerable  Winter, 
Came  the  Spring  with  all  its  splendor. 
All  its  birds  and  all  its  blossoms, 
All  its  flowers  and  leaves  and  grasses. 

Sailing  on  the  wind  to  northward, 
Flying  in  great  flocks,  like  arrows, 
Like  huge  arrows  shot  through  heaven, 
Passed  the  swan,  the  Mahnahbezee, 
Speaking  almost  as  a  man  speaks ; 
And  in  long  lines  waving,  bending 
Like  a  bow-string  snapped  asunder, 
Came  the  white  goose,  Waw-be-wawa : 
And  the  pairs  or  singly  flying, 
[299] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Mahng  the  loon,  with  clangorous  pinions, 
The  blue  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
And  the  grouse,  the  Mushkodasa. 

In  the  thickets,  and  the  meadows 
Piped  the  bluebird,  the  Owaissa, 
On  the  summit  of  the  lodges 
Sang  the  Opechee,  the  robin, 
In  the  cover  of  the  pine-trees 
Cooed  the  pigeon,  the  Omemee, 
And  the  sorrowing  Hiawatha, 
Speechless  in  his  infinite  sorrow, 
Heard  their  voices  calling  to  him, 
Went  forth  from  his  gloomy  doorway, 
Stood  and  gazed  into  the  heaven, 
Gazed  upon  the  earth  and  waters. 

From  his  wanderings  far  to  eastward, 
From  the  regions  of  the  morning, 
From  the  shining  land  of  Wabun, 
Homeward  now  returned  lagoo. 
The  great  traveller,  the  great  boaster, 
Full  of  new  and  strange  adventures, 
Marvels  many  and  many  wonders. 

And  the  people  of  the  village 
Listened  to  him  as  he  told  them 
Of  his  marvellous  adventures, 
Laughing  answered  him  in  this  wise : 
[300] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

"Ugh!  it  is  indeed  lagoo! 

No  one  else  beholds  such  wonders !" 

He  had  seen,  he  said,  a  water 
Bigger  than  the  Big-Sea-Water, 
Broader  than  the  Gitche  Gumee, 
Bitter  so  that  none  could  drink  it! 
At  each  other  looked  the  warriors, 
Looked  the  women  at  each  other, 
Smiled  and  said,  "It  cannot  be  so ! 
Kaw !"  they  said,  "It  cannot  be  so !" 

O'er  it,  said  he,  o'er  this  water 
Came  a  great  canoe  with  pinions, 
A  canoe  with  wings  came  flying, 
Bigger  than  a  grove  of  pine-trees, 
Taller  than  the  tallest  tree-tops!" 
And  the  old  men  and  the  women 
Looked  and  tittered  at  each  other; 
"Kaw!"  they  said,  "we  don't  believe  it!" 

From  its  mouth,  he  said,  to  greet  him, 
Came  Waywassimo,  the  lightning, 
Came  the  thunder,  Annemeekee ! 
And  the  warriors  and  the  women 
Laughed  aloud  at  poor  lagoo; 
"Kaw!"  they  said,  "what  tales  you  tell  us!" 

In  it,  said  he,  came  a  people, 
In  the  great  canoe  with  pinions 
[  301  ] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Came,  he  said,  a  hundred  warriors; 
Painted  white  were  all  their  faces 
And  with  hair  their  chins  were  covered!" 
And  the  warriors  and  the  women 
Laughed  and  shouted  in  derision, 
Like  the  ravens  on  the  tree-tops, 
Like  the  crows  upon  the  hemlocks. 
"Kaw!"  they  said,  "what  lies  you  tell  us! 
Do  not  think  that  we  believe  them!" 

Only  Hiawatha  laughed  not, 
But  he  gravely  spake  and  answered 
To  their  jeering  and  their  jesting : 
"True  is  all  lagoo  tells  us; 
I  have  seen  it  in  a  vision, 
Seen  the  great  canoe  with  pinions, 
Seen  the  people  with  white  faces, 
Seen  the  coming  of  this  bearded 
People  of  the  wooden  vessel 
From  the  regions  of  the  morning, 
From  the  shining  land  of  Wabun. 

"Gitche  Manito,  the  Mighty, 
The  Great  Spirit,  the  Creator, 
Sends  them  hither  on  his  errand, 
Sends  them  to  us  with  his  message. 
Wheresoe'er  they  move,  before  them 
Swarms  the  stinging  fly,  the  Ahmo, 
[302] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Swarms  the  bee,  the  honey-maker ; 
Wheresoe'er  they  tread,  beneath  them 
Springs  a  flower  unknown  among  us, 
Springs  the  White-man's  Foot  in  blossom. 

"Let  us  welcome,  then,  the  strangers, 
Hail  them  as  our  friends  and  brothers. 
And  the  heart's  right  hand  of  friendship 
Give  them  when  they  come  to  see  us. 
Gitche  Manito,  the  Mighty, 
Said  this  to  me  in  my  vision. 

"I  beheld,  too,  in  that  vision 
All  the  secrets  of  the  future, 
Of  the  distant  days  that  shall  be. 
I  beheld  the  westward  marches 
Of  the  unknown,  crowded  nations. 
All  the  land  was  full  of  people, 
Restless,  struggling,  toiling,  striving, 
Speaking  many  tongues,  yet  feeling 
But  one  heart-beat  in  their  bosoms. 
In  the  woodlands  rang  their  axes, 
Smoked  their  towns  in  all  the  valleys, 
Over  all  the  lakes  and  rivers 
Rushed  their  great  canoes  of  thunder. 

"Then  a  darker,  drearier  vision 
Passed  before  me,  vague  and  cloudlike 
I  beheld  our  nation  scattered, 
[303] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

All  forgetful  of  my  counsels, 
Weakened,  warring  with  each  other; 
Saw  the  remnants  of  our  people 
Sweeping  westward,  wild  and  woeful, 
Like  the  cloud-rack  of  a  tempest, 
Like  the  withered  leaves  of  Autumn!" 

XXII 

HIAWATHA'S  DEPARTURE 

BY  the  shore  of  Gitche  Gumee, 
By  the  shining  Big-Sea-Water, 
At  the  doorway  of  his  wigwam, 
In  the  pleasant  Summer  morning, 
Hiawatha  stood  and  waited. 

All  the  air  was  full  of  freshness, 
All  the  earth  was  bright  and  joyous, 
And  before  him5  through  the  sunshine, 
Westward  toward  the  neighboring  forest 
Passed  in  golden  swarms  the  Ahmo, 
Passed  the  bees,  the  honey-makers, 
Burning,  singing  in  the  sunshine. 

Bright  above  him  shone  the  heavens, 
Level  spread  the  lake  before  him; 
From  its  bosom  leaped  the  sturgeon, 
Sparkling,  flashing  in  the  sunshine; 
[304] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

On  its  margin  the  great  forest 
Stood  reflected  in  the  water, 
Every  tree-top  had  its  shadow, 
Motionless  beneath  the  water. 

From  the  brow  of  Hiawatha 
Gone  was  every  trace  of  sorrow, 
As  the  fog  from  off  the  water, 
As  the  mist  from  off  the  meadow. 
With  a  smile  of  joy  and  triumph, 
With  a  look  of  exultation, 
As  of  one  who  in  a  vision 
Sees  what  is  to  be,  but  is  not, 
Stood  and  waited  Hiawatha. 

Toward  the  sun  his  hands  were  lifted, 
Both  the  palms  spread  out  against  it, 
And  between  the  parted  fingers 
Fell  the  sunshine  on  his  features, 
Flecked  with  light  his  naked  shoulders, 
As  it  falls  and  flecks  an  oak-tree 
Through  the  rifted  leaves  and  branches. 

O'er  the  water  floating,  flying, 
Something  in  the  hazy  distance, 
Something  in  the  mists  of  morning, 
Loomed  and  lifted  from  the  water, 
Now  seemed  floating,  now  seemed  flying, 
Coming  nearer,  nearer,  nearer. 
[305] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Was  it  Shingebis,  the  diver? 
Was  it  the  pelican,  the  Shada? 
Or  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah  *? 
Or  the  white  goose,  Waw-be-wawa, 
With  the  water  dripping,  flashing, 
From  its  glossy  neck  and  feathers'? 

It  was  neither  goose  nor  diver, 
Neither  pelican  nor  heron, 
O'er  the  water  floating,  flying, 
Through  the  shining  mist  of  morning, 
But  a  birch-canoe  with  paddles, 
Rising,  sinking  on  the  water, 
Dripping,  flashing  in  the  sunshine; 
And  within  it  came  a  people 
From  the  distant  land  of  Wabun, 
From  the  farthest  realms  of  morning 
Came  the  Black-Robe  chief,  the  Prophet, 
He  the  Priest  of  Prayer,  the  Pale-face, 
With  his  guides  and  his  companions. 

And  the  noble  Hiawatha, 
With  his  hands  aloft  extended, 
Held  aloft  in  sign  of  welcome, 
Waited,  full  of  exultation, 
Till  the  birch-canoe  with  paddles 
Grated  on  the  shining  pebbles, 
Stranded  on  the  sandy  margin, 
[306] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Till  the  Black-Robe  chief,  the  Pale-face, 
With  the  cross  upon  his  bosom, 
Landed  on  the  sandy  margin. 

Then  the  joyous  Hiawatha 
Cried  aloud  and  spake  in  this  wise : 
"Beautiful  is  the  sun,  O  strangers, 
When  you  come  so  far  to  see  us ! 
All  our  town  in  peace  awaits  you, 
All  our  doors  stand  open  for  you; 
You  shall  enter  all  our  wigwams, 
For  the  heart's  right  hand  we  give  you. 

"Never  bloomed  the  earth  so  gayly, 
Never  shone  the  sun  so  brightly, 
As  to-day  they  shine  and  blossom, 
When  you  come  so  far  to  see  us ! 
Never  was  our  lake  so  tranquil, 
Nor  so  free  from  rocks  and  sand-bars; 
For  your  birch-canoe  in  passing 
Has  removed  both  rock  and  sand-bar. 

"Never  before  had  our  tobacco 
Such  a  sweet  and  pleasant  flavor, 
Never  the  broad  leaves  of  our  cornfields 
Were  so  beautiful  to  look  on 
As  they  seem  to  us  this  morning, 
When  you  come  so  far  to  see  us !" 

And  the  Black-Robe  chief  made  answer, 
[307] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Stammered  in  his  speech  a  little, 
Speaking  words  yet  unfamiliar: 
"Peace  be  with  you,  Hiawatha, 
Peace  be  with  you  and  your  people, 
Peace  of  prayer,  and  peace  of  pardon, 
Peace  of  Christ,  and  joy  of  Mary!" 

Then  the  generous  Hiawatha 
Led  the  strangers  to  his  wigwam, 
Seated  them  on  skins  of  bison, 
Seated  them  on  skins  of  ermine, 
And  the  careful  old  Nokomis 
Brought  them  food  in  bowls  of  bass-wood, 
Water  brought  in  birchen  dippers, 
And  the  calumet,  the  peace-pipe, 
Filled  and  lighted  for  their  smoking. 

All  the  old  men  of  the  village, 
All  the  warriors  of  the  nation, 
All  the  Jossakeeds,  the  prophets, 
The  magicians,  the  Wabenos, 
And  the  medicine-men,  the  Medas, 
Came  to  bid  the  strangers  welcome : 
"It  is  well,"  they  said,  "O  brothers, 
That  you  come  so  far  to  see  us!" 

In  a  circle  round  the  doorway, 
With  their  pipes  they  sat  in  silence, 
Waiting  to  behold  the  strangers, 
[308] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Waiting  to  receive  their  message ; 
Till  the  Black-Robe  chief,  the  Pale-face, 
From  the  wigwam  came  to  greet  them, 
Stammering  in  his  speech  a  little, 
Speaking  words  yet  unfamiliar; 
"It  is  well,"  they  said,  "O  brother, 
When  you  come  so  far  to  see  us!" 

Then  the  Black-Robe  chief,  the  prophet, 
Told  his  message  to  the  people, 
Told  the  purport  of  his  mission, 
Told  them  of  the  Virgin  Mary, 
And  her  blessed  Son,  the  Saviour, 
How  in  distant  lands  and  ages 
He  had  lived  on  earth  as  we  do; 
How  he  fasted,  prayed,  and  labored; 
How  the  Jews,  the  tribe  accursed, 
Mocked  him,  scourged  him,  crucified  him; 
How  he  rose  from  where  they  laid  him, 
Walked  again  with  his  disciples, 
And  ascended  into  heaven. 

And  the  chiefs  made  answer  saying : 
"We  have  listened  to  your  message, 
We  have  heard  your  words  of  wisdom, 
We  will  think  on  what  you  tell  us. 
It  is  well  for  us,  O  brothers, 
That  you  come  so  far  to  see  us !" 
[309] 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Then  they  rose  up  and  departed 
Each  one  homeward  to  his  wigwam, 
To  the  young  men  and  the  women 
Told  the  story  of  the  strangers 
Whom  the  Master  of  Life  had  sent  them 
From  the  shining  land  of  Wabun. 

Heavy  with  the  heat  and  silence 
Grew  the  afternoon  of  Summer; 
With  a  drowsy  sound  the  forest 
Whispered  round  the  sultry  wigwam, 
With  a  sound  of  sleep  the  water 
Rippled  on  the  beach  below  it; 
From  the  cornfields  shrill  and  ceaseless 
Sang  the  grasshopper,  Pah-puk-keena ; 
And  the  guests  of  Hiawatha, 
Weary  with  the  heat  of  Summer, 
Slumbered  in  the  sultry  wigwam. 

Slowly  o'er  the  simmering  landscape 
Fell  the  evening's  dusk  and  coolness, 
And  the  long  and  level  sunbeams 
Shot  their  spears  into  the  forest, 
Breaking  through  its  shields  of  shadow, 
Rushed  into  each  secret  ambush, 
Searched  each  thicket,  dingle,  hollow; 
Still  the  guests  of  Hiawatha 
Slumbered  in  the  silent  wigwam. 


COPYRIGHT  i9io  BY  FRE^EB 


'WESTWARD,  WESTWARD,  HIAWATHA 

SAILED  INTO  THE  FIERY  SUNSET" Page  312 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

From  his  place  rose  Hiawatha, 
Bade  farewell  to  old  Nokomis, 
Spake  in  whispers,  spake  in  this  wise, 
Did  not  wake  the  guests,  that  slumbered : 

"I  am  going,  O  Nokomis, 
On  a  long  and  distant  journey, 
To  the  portals  of  the  Sunset, 
To  the  regions  of  the  Home-wind, 
Of  the  Northwest  wind,  Keewaydin. 
But  these  guests  I  leave  behind  me, 
In  your  watch  and  ward  I  leave  them; 
See  that  never  harm  comes  near  them, 
See  that  never  fear  molests  them, 
Never  danger  nor  suspicion, 
Never  want  of  food  or  shelter, 
In  the  lodge  of  Hiawatha!" 

Forth  into  the  village  went  he, 
Bade  farewell  to  all  the  warriors, 
Bade  farewell  to  all  the  young  men, 
Spake  persuading,  spake  in  this  wise : 

"I  am  going,  O  my  people, 
On  a  long  and  distant  journey; 
Many  moons  and  many  winters 
Will  have  come  and  will  have  vanished. 
Ere  I  come  again  to  see  you. 
But  my  guests  I  leave  behind  me; 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Listen  to  their  words  of  wisdom, 
Listen  to  the  truth  they  tell  you, 
For  the  Master  of  Life  has  sent  them 
From  the  land  of  light  and  morning!" 

On  the  shore  stood  Hiawatha, 
Turned  and  waved  his  hand  at  parting; 
On  the  clear  and  luminous  water 
Launched  his  birch-canoe  for  sailing, 
From  the  pebbles  of  the  margin 
Shoved  it  forth  into  the  water; 
Whispered  to  it,  "Westward!  westward!" 
And  with  speed  it  darted  forward. 

And  the  evening  sun  descending 
Set  the  clouds  on  fire  with  redness, 
Burned  the  broad  sky,  like  a  prairie, 
Left  upon  the  level  water 
One  long  track  and  trail  of  splendor, 
Down  whose  stream,  as  down  a  river, 
Westward,  westward  Hiawatha 
Sailed  into  the  fiery  sunset, 
Sailed  into  the  purple  vapors, 
Sailed  into  the  dusk  of  evening. 

And  the  people  from  the  margin 
Watched  him  floating,  rising,  sinking, 
Till  the  birch  canoe  seemed  lifted 
High  into  that  sea  of  splendor, 


THE  SONG  OF  HIAWATHA 

Till  it  sank  into  the  vapors 

Like  the  new  moon  slowly,  slowly 

Sinking  in  the  purple  distance. 

And  they  said,  "Farewell  forever !" 
Said,  "Farewell,  O  Hiawatha!" 
And  the  forests,  dark  and  lonely, 
Moved  through  all  their  depths  of  darkness, 
Sighed,  "Farewell,  O  Hiawatha!" 
And  the  waves  upon  the  margin 
Rising,  rippling  on  the  pebbles, 
Sobbed,  "Farewell,  O  Hiawatha!" 
And  the  heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah, 
From  her  haunts  among  the  fen-lands 
Screamed,  "Farewell,  O  Hiawatha!" 

Thus  departed  Hiawatha, 
Hiawatha,  the  Beloved, 
In  the  glory  of  the  sunset, 
In  the  purple  mists  of  evening, 
To  the  regions  of  the  home-wind, 
Of  the  Northwest  wind  Keewaydin, 
To  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed, 
To  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
To  the  land  of  the  Hereafter! 

THE    END 

[313] 


DATE  DUE 


3  1970  00633  5258 


• 


